Seven Up
by snaps48
Summary: After book 6. Steph undergoes a traumatic experience that changes who and what she is.
1. Here and Now 1

**Seven Up**

**Part One – Here and Now**

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a/n: As the title suggests, this takes place after Hot Six_. Yeah. It's taken me this long. Yeah. I'm slow. And many times preoccupied… _So please understand that this will be updated very, very slowly.

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**Prologue **

"About that proposal Cupcake…"

I couldn't believe it. In the past week, I had fallen out of a tree, been kidnapped, and shot. I had kicked my way through a building and jumped out of a window. I had had to deal with my grandma living in my apartment, two bozos working for Stolle, and Joyce Barnhardt following me around. And now, to top it all off, I was going to have to deal with Morelli when all I wanted was to have an orgasm. Have I mentioned that I'm a nympho?

"Yes Morelli?"

Then I thought of something even worse. What if he was serious?

"You know I was only saying that to get rid of them, right?"

I just couldn't take anymore. This man was my wonderful, considerate lover. And he put me through hell on a regular basis. I couldn't do it.

"I'm leaving."

"Steph?" He sounded uncertain. Maybe even a little scared. Did I care? Not even a little. "Steph?"

I didn't even bother to turn around.

"I'm sorry Joe." He would probably never understand why I was sorry, what I was sorry for. He would probably never know that I wasn't apologizing to him, but that I sorry for the both of us and for the ending of an era. He would probably never realize just how sorry I was.

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**One **

_six months later_

As I pulled up to Vinnie's office, I noticed that something looked a little different. Then I saw it. A shiny new BMW was parked in front of the office. Through my brilliant deductive skills, I figured that Ranger was back. I wondered how long he'd been back in Trenton. Then I debated leaving and going home, but I couldn't justify it, even to myself. So Ranger was there. So what? Why should Ranger's presence dictate where I could and couldn't go? Righteous indignation duly aroused, I got out of Big Blue, kicked the BMW's tire for good measure, and headed in. Of course, the fact that I had three body receipts from over the weekend had nothing to do with it. Really.

Inside, I saw Connie and Lula, both leaning back in their chairs, fanning themselves with whatever they could get their hands on.

"Girl, you never gonna believe it, but Batman be back from the dead! Now that man has a body so fine you could…"

Interrupting Lula, I handed Connie the body receipts and asked for my checks.

"You ok, girl? You been actin' snooty. I sure liked you better when you was gettin' some."

I shot Lula a look that quieted her, which was a first, since Lula always has something to say. No matter what.

"Anything else for me?" I really needed something to do that day.

"Sure, Steph. The White brothers are on top. Then there are three that are chump change. Disturbing the peace, public drunkenness, and shoplifting. No priors. Go ahead and grab the files while I finish writing the checks."

"Great, thanks. Is there anything else?"

"Vinnie wanted me to remind you that Cannon needs to be in within three days. And I was supposed to give this file to Ranger…" she said, fingering it.

"Forget it. Thanks." I grabbed by checks and files and walked out the door, happy to have avoided Ranger.

I drove back to my apartment on autopilot, fast and checking for tails, preoccupied with thoughts of Ranger's return. It didn't take me long to get home, and I swept my apartment for intruders before heading for the kitchen.

"What the hell is Ranger doing back?" I asked Rex. Sighing, I looked around the cupboards for something to give him.

"Why couldn't he just have stayed gone? That would have made things so much easier." I told him, settling on a grape and a handful of hamster nuggets. "Ok, well, I know when he left…it hurt, but, it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. It's not like I wasn't used to guys leaving me without a word. I mean, how many times did Morelli go away without telling me for months at a time?"

Rex grabbed his grape and headed back to his soup can.

"Et tu, Brute?" I quipped. "Guess you just don't want to hear me whine. Fair enough."

I sat down to watch some television, feeling pretty good about my day. I'd brought in three FTA's and managed to avoid Ranger. Not too bad. Although I wasn't sure that if Ranger was trying to find me. And I'd only had to avoid him for maybe ten minutes so far. But I was doing well so far. I'd learned to take things one step at a time.

A few hours later, a sound brought me out of my TV induced coma. It took me a second to figure out what the sound was. Someone picking my lock. I grabbed my gun and slipped next to the door on the side with the hinges. Back to the wall, I waited for it to open.

It was slowly pushed open and the intruder walked confidently inside. My gun was pointed at his back as I when I kicked the door shut. He jumped and turned around, staring at me like I was the nut case. He'd been the one to break into my apartment, but I was the crazy one. Of course, since it was Morelli, this wasn't surprising. Morelli had been thinking I was crazy since we were both in diapers.

"Hey, Cupcake," he said with a smile. "Long time, no see." I could agree with that; it had been a long time. He'd been avoiding me like Typhoid Mary since I'd broken it off with him. And he didn't sound very perturbed by the fact that I had a loaded gun trained on him. Probably, if he'd known it was loaded, he would have been a little more nervous. After all, I'd broken his leg with just a loaded Buick, imagine what I could do with real fire-power.

"What are you doing in my apartment." I was proud of myself for staying so calm.

"Heard you brought Nelson in. Congratulations," he said while pushing the gun in my hands down. I let him. He raised an eyebrow, and I just shrugged my shoulders. It was pretty obvious that he wanted an explanation, and I thought that a brief one wouldn't hurt.

"I thought that if I was gonna keep doing skip tracing, that I should learn how to use my gun." Not a lie. Not that it was the truth, either, but I'd learned the arts of partial truths and lies by omission.

We stood there in an uncomfortable silence for a few more minutes. "Well," he finally said, looking at me expectantly. "Are you gonna invite me in or what?"

I ignored the fact that he was already in and motioned to a chair, slipping my gun to the small of my back. There was really no point in keeping it out unless I planned on using it, and as much appeal as that thought held, I didn't think that it would be especially productive. Not to mention that I'd probably end up in jail. You know, assaulting an officer and all that jazz. So I just sat back and waited for him to spill it. After all, he was the one that broke into my apartment, so obviously there was something he wanted to talk about. Probably.

We did the staring thing for a little longer, and I was getting tired of waiting. I'm not exactly the most patient person in the world, and since my job requires a lot of stakeouts, my patience is usually gone by the end of the day. Not that I actually wait for very long when I do a stake out. After about ten minutes, I get bored and try an alternate method of finding my FTA. Still, those ten minutes are very trying on a woman's patience.

"Are you here for a reason?" I guess I wasn't really in the mood for waiting on him.

"Like I said, good job on Nelson. High bond, what was he, 50, 60 grand?"

"Something like that." It had actually been a $500,000 bond. The guy had killed a senator's daughter. I'd been surprised when he'd gotten bail at all. I'd been even more surprised Vinnie had been the one to bond him. "I brought him in last week. Gotta come up with something better, Morelli. Start talking or get the hell out of my apartment."

Did I mention that I was running low on patience?

"Guess you heard Ranger's back?" It wasn't a question. Well. Perfect.

"Get out," I told him calmly.

"Huh?" Morelli looked just a little disturbed by my directness. I wasn't all that worried. It's not like I had Burg Hostess of the Year on the line, we all knew that. Especially after I hadn't invited him in right away.

"Get out of my apartment," I told him again. I was righteously angry. For six months, I hadn't heard a word from him. Then Ranger came back and Morelli was on me like white on rice? He somehow felt it was his duty to break into my apartment and let me know? Just dandy.

"Well, I just thought…" he trailed off.

"You just thought what?" I asked, just slightly more harshly than I had intended, but I seriously doubted any sort of real thinking had been involved.

Morelli just gave me that sheepish grin of his again. I couldn't believe he was taking this so lightheartedly. I wondered if maybe shooting him in the little toe wouldn't be worth the hassle. He was seriously pissing me off.

I tried to keep my voice level and low. "For the past six months, you've avoided me like the plague. Now Ranger's back, and what? What could you have possibly been thinking that would bring you to break into my apartment?"

"That I've missed you." His voice was very quiet when he said that, and I didn't know what to do or how to respond.

I'd made my decision six months ago, and I wasn't going to go back on it now. I wouldn't put myself through all of the shit that went along with sleeping with Joe – I wasn't sure I could come out of it unscathed. Selfish or not, it didn't matter if I loved him, or lusted after him, or wanted to be his friend, I just wasn't going to do it. Sleep with him, that is. I wouldn't mind being friends again.

And besides, he didn't really want me. He didn't really miss me. He missed the idea of me. More, he missed the competition with Ranger. And he didn't know all of the things that had happened, all the things that had changed. So he couldn't want me, not really.

"Please, Joe, just leave." I was tired. I didn't want to deal with this, or him. I wanted Joe to leave me alone. Not that that was going to happen any time soon.

Sighing, Morelli flopped down on my couch. I didn't say a word. There had to be a point somewhere in all of this. Morelli rarely did anything without more than one motivation. I was right.

"You were right. I came over for more." Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. Ok, both eyebrows. I still haven't figured out how to raise one eyebrow. Though I have tried. I think I spent two or three hours in front of a mirror one day trying. The result was a massive headache. Not exactly what I'd hoped for when I started my little exercise.

"Well?" I prompted him.

"Remember a couple months ago, when you brought Blackwell in?" Joe asked.

I shuddered internally at the memory. Blackwell. The man who accomplished what no other could. Because of him, I'd changed, dramatically. Because of him, I now carried a gun everywhere, no matter where I was going or what I was doing. Because of him, I learned serious self-defense. Because of him, I learned the moves beyond self-defense. Because of him, I couldn't go to sleep at night. I tried to hide my feelings on the subject from Morelli. No way was I gonna show him that even just the mention of his name still had an effect on me.

"Sure." No need to give more information than I had to.

"His trial ended a few days ago."

"And?" I asked, hoping that I looked a lot more confident than I felt. I'd already known all of this before Morelli had come over. Blackwell had been found guilty on numerous charges, including rape and murder among others. If Morelli had come to me to let me know something, and he was being this careful about it, I had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"They found him guilty."

Of course. What else would they have done? I really didn't know how to respond to this, especially since I already knew that. He'd been screaming obscenities and threatening everybody he could think of when he was being taken away. I was one of the people he was threatening. Probably that was why Joe came over to tell me. I just used my all purpose response of, "And?" Hey, when in doubt, go on the offensive. A rule to live by.

"And, while they were transporting him, Blackwell escaped."

Morelli gave me a once over, really looking at me for the first time since he had come into my apartment. I guess he was sizing me up. Wondering when I would burst into tears, or beg him to protect me, or something else like that. Well, wasn't gonna happen. I was through depending on anyone other than myself. Especially if they were a Morelli. Or a Manoso.

But I just sat there, suddenly cold all over. There was no way that could be true. It couldn't be true. I looked at Joe. It was true.

"Cupcake. It's ok." He reached for me, apparently in an effort to comfort me.

"Don't touch me." I jerked away and crossed the room, where I saw Ranger standing in the doorway, watching us. I had no idea how long he'd been there, or how much he'd heard. It was emotional overload.

I looked from one to the other, and back again before muttering something derogatory about half of the world's population and turning on my heel and walking into my bedroom. I slammed the door shut and sat against it. I could hear Morelli and Ranger talking in the other room. I really didn't want to go back out there, but nosy person that I am, I wanted to hear what was being said. So I put my ear to the door. An old trick, but a reliable one.

As I did this, I could make out a little more of what was being said.

"You sure about this, Morelli."

"Yeah. We're trying to keep it quiet, but it'll be in the papers by tomorrow morning, latest."

A shudder ran through me just at the thought of Blackwell being loose. There was no way I could go through this again.

"Should we let ourselves out, then?" Morelli asked.

"I haven't talked to her yet."

"She slammed her door on us. Something tells me she doesn't want to talk."

There was silence for a minute, then footsteps walking towards my bedroom door, and then Joe's voice.

"Cupcake?" He sounded slightly unsure of himself, although it might have been the fact that he was talking to me through a door. He lowered his voice. "I meant what I said earlier. Think about it, and be careful, ok?"

I could tell he was waiting for me to say something. Yeah, right. As far as I was concerned, he could wait all night. They both could.

After what seemed like an eternity, he said, "Fine, whatever. I'm outta here." I thought he was talking to Ranger, but I couldn't be sure. If he was, then apparently Ranger wasn't responding. But then again, it was Ranger, and with him, a response is never to be expected. On the other hand, Ranger could have left and Joe might have been talking to me. That would be nice. Then I wouldn't have to worry about confronting him and adding something else to my 'things to deal with' pile.

I knew my front door was shut, I heard Joe close it, but I had no way of knowing whether or not it was locked. I waited in my bedroom, sitting against my door for probably ten minutes before I couldn't stand it anymore. I'd been prepared to stay in there the entire night, just to make sure I didn't have to deal with anything else, but I needed to know if my door was locked. Especially with Blackwell back on the streets. And Ranger was probably gone. And I really, _really_ needed some chocolate if I was gonna deal with all of this.

I opened the door, and came face to face with Ranger.

I stood there in stunned amazement.

"Yo babe."

"Yo yourself."

Ranger just stood there, staring at me. I didn't have a clue as to what he was thinking. Of course, his face was always blank unless he'd decided to let something show. I was upset about the fact that he didn't want anything to show now, didn't want me to see anything. I could do that stony face just as easily as he could. After a while, it becomes second nature. It becomes easier to wear that mask than not. Hell, I even understood the reasons behind not wanting to show anything. I had secrets I didn't want anyone to know, too. I was still upset.

"Staring, Babe," he said.

"Yeah, well you know what they say about people in glass houses."

He just raised an eyebrow. Guess he didn't know they shouldn't throw stones.

"You're staring too."

I let the amusement show on my face at Ranger's expression.

I really needed that chocolate. I wondered if I had any ice-cream. He was still staring at me. I was suddenly overcome with this yearning to have him hold me, cradle me to his chest and tell me that everything was alright. For him to make me feel safe and happy again. But I knew that it would be a lie, that feeling that so long as your in their arms, nothing bad can get you. The falseness of the feeling wasn't the only thing that kept me from Ranger's arms, though. I'd made it through hell and high water in the past few months, and I'd done it without him there to help me or protect me. I'd done it on my own. It turned out that I could do things without help, that I could be independent. I liked being independent.

I turned away from him and slipped into the kitchen.

"Hungry?" Ranger asked.

"Always." I answered as I rooted around the freezer.

"Wanna grab a bite somewhere?"

I pulled myself out of my refrigerator after finding my emergency stash of double chocolate fudge with caramel swirls by Ben and Jerry. As he asked this, I looked at him, considering what he could mean by it. Way too many thoughts swirled through my head. Damn if I don't overanalyze things. Probably he was just hungry and wanted some company. After all, wasn't I always good for a laugh or two? Not anymore, I wasn't.

"Do I want to grab a bite somewhere?" I asked him. It took a phenomenal amount of effort to keep my voice light and cheery.

"That's what I asked."

"Well, I'm flattered." My voice was dripping in sarcasm. I was probably going to have to mop the floor when Ranger left. "I don't believe you've ever actually given me a choice before. Good to know that your conversational abilities do in fact extend beyond just giving orders."

I pictured myself putting a finger under his chin and reattaching his jaw to his face. Seemed like he was surprised by me.

I grabbed a spoon from a drawer and walked passed him, settling myself on the couch. My legs were stretched out so that I took up almost the entire length of the it. I'd planned it that way, so that Ranger would have to sit somewhere else. Somewhere not very close to me. Then I just sat there, waiting for him to say something. I took a bite of my ice cream, but for some reason, I just couldn't stomach it. I stabbed the spoon back into the carton and slapped it on the coffee table.

"Something wrong, Babe?"

Sighing, I answered, "No." Not unless you count the fact that a rapist and a murderer had just escaped from prison and the sexiest man in Trenton just asked me out to dinner and I made fun of him. There was a knock on my door. Because of course my night couldn't get any more complicated.

"Expecting someone?"

I thought about it for a moment, and then shook my head. Grabbing my gun from my back, I looked through the peep hole. After seeing who it was, I put it back and opened the door.

"Hey, Angel."

"Hi Tank. What's wrong?" He had a look on his face, and it wasn't entirely pleasant. Then I realized that he and Ranger were looking at each other.

In the past six months, Tank and I had become friends. In the beginning, he'd helped me with some of my more difficult take-downs, taught me how to really use a gun, and showed me self-defense, special forces style. And, while the whole thing with Blackwell was going on, he had even given me a place to stay when I couldn't stay in my apartment. And he hadn't even known me that well then. That was when I had learned that he has a wife named Susie, who has to be the sweetest woman on earth, and two little twin girls named Sasha and Tanya, and now there's another on the way. He would never say anything to Susie, but I'm pretty sure he's hoping it's a little boy.

Things were getting to be a bit much. I knew I was a popular gal, but still, three visitors in one night? I sat back down on the couch, and picked my ice cream back up. Chocolate I could deal with. Or maybe not, I decided as I took another bite. I wanted to throw it against a wall. Instead I carefully place it on the table again.

"Please, sit. Make yourselves at home."

Tank went into the kitchen and looked in my mostly empty refrigerator.

"Refrigerator fairy still hasn't come, huh?"

"Nope, I guess I'll have to go shopping."

Finding my box of Frosted Flakes, Tank flopped down on the couch next to me.

"Shit, Tank. If you eat all my cereal again you have to buy me a new box." He mumbled something or other which I'm pretty sure it included a few four letter words directed at me. Ranger was still standing, and gave us a quizzical look.

"Sit." I told him. I was getting tired of this game he was playing, and decided that if he was gonna be in my apartment, he could at least be polite.

Finally, he sat down in one of my chairs, still looking at Tank and me.

"You hear about Blackwell?" Tank asked me.

"Yeah, Morelli stopped by to let me know."

"Morelli?"

"Yeah. Strange, huh? The other stranger that stopped by still hasn't told me why he's here."

Ranger looked fairly startled. Guess he didn't like being called a stranger. Or maybe he didn't like being put in the same category as Morelli. Or maybe he was surprised that I wasn't too scared to make fun of him anymore. Well, he was just going to have to get used to the fact that I wasn't going to let him hold all the cards anymore.

"Do you want me to go?" Tank asked, uncertain as to what to do. I guess I could understand this. After all, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"No, you aren't interrupting anything." I told him.

"Yes, Tank. Would you excuse us?" Ranger said at the same time.

Now, I could tell that Tank was really being put on the spot. I had asked him to stay, and Ranger had asked him to leave. I was somewhat curious as to what he would do, but I couldn't let him get in trouble with Ranger. Tank looked to Ranger, and then me, and I nodded that I would be alright.

"Call me." He said as he got up to leave. I nodded in response.

After he left, Ranger gave me another quizzical look.

"Care to explain?" He asked me.

"Explain what?" Didn't really matter what, though I had an idea what he wanted to know. I wasn't going to explain anything. _He_ was the one with the 'splainin' to do.'

"Explain about Tank." The skin around his eyes and forehead had gone tight. He was not a happy camper.

"About Tank?" I asked innocently. "Why, didn't you send him to take care of me in your absence? It was very kind of you to send a replacement while you were away. He filled in quite nicely for you. In fact, you either have very little confidence in Tank, or have an ego the size of New York, because Tank did just fine on his own. The other three guys were really quite unnecessary. Although, they do make nice eye candy, don't you think?" That last part was just me being a bitch. But hey, I was pissed about Ranger and scared about Blackwell and in an overall shitty mood and Ranger made a handy target.

This was when he was supposed to yell and storm out. It didn't work that way, though. I guess he missed the cue. He just sat and stared at me. But two can play at that game. I just sat and ate my ice cream.

"Are you here for any particular reason?" So I really needed to work on my patience. I wanted him to say that he'd missed me. I wanted him to tell me that he'd come by to explain why he hadn't told me he was going to leave in the first place. I wanted him to be there for me.

"Gotta job for you, Babe."

A job. I should have figured that a job would be the only thing to bring Ranger back to Trenton. I should have known that he would never have come and talked to me at all unless it was work related. I ruthlessly shut out the blossom of pain that started in my chest.

"What is it?" I asked.

It took him a minute to say anything else. "You've changed."

Of course I've changed, I screamed at him silently. You left for six months. What did you expect? That I'd just be sitting here on the couch? Waiting for you to show up and whisk me away? That was just in the fantasy world. It took me a while, but I grew out of believing that dreams could come true.

"Yes," I said. "Yes I have. Now what kind of job is it?"

He looked at me for a minute, like he was sizing me up. Then he started telling me about the job.

"Job's over in Vegas. We leave day after tomorrow. You in?" he asked.

Vegas? What the hell would we be doing in Vegas? He was giving me a look like he was trying to figure out what was going through my head. I wished him the best of luck. It would probably be good if one of us knew what I was thinking.

"What's the job." It didn't escape my notice that he hadn't answered that part of the question.

"We're going to sort out a problem for a client of mine."

"Which is what?"

"Drug related."

It left me to wonder if the client had a drug addiction, or someone in the client's family or business did. Probably, simple addiction wasn't the problem. They had clinics for that, not military operations.

"So are you in?" He asked me.

Probably I should have asked more questions. Probably I shouldn't agree to a job so blindly. Probably I needed to get Ranger out of my apartment so that I could put my heart and head back together. I just nodded.

"Good. Tank will pick you up tomorrow morning. You need to pick up some things before you go."

Pick up some things? What did he mean by that? Guns? Plane tickets? Grenades?

"What kind of things?" I asked.

"Clothes will be provided, but you need to bring…lingerie." If I didn't know better, I'd say Ranger blushed.

"Lingerie?" I asked. "You're assuming I don't already have some?"

"It needs to be high-end stuff, whatever that is," he said. "You're going in as a very, very well kept, sexy woman, so you all of your things need to match that part."

Because now, of course, I'm cheap and dumpy and all of my clothing fit that part.

"Anything specific?" I asked.

"Whatever you think is best," he said dismissively. "But I prefer stockings and garter belts." Ranger was back to being his cocky self. He flashed me a grin that said he knew me, and knew that he'd be seeing me in nothing but those thigh highs. Little did he know.

"Why is Tank picking me up?" Back to business. Well, mostly anyway. "Do you want me to try it on for him? You know, just to make sure I've picked out the right kind of thing?" He blinked. Twice.

"He'll be there to pay for the stuff." Ranger's voice was still steady. But it was very slightly deeper.

"I can buy it myself." He just looked at me.

"Ranger, believe it or not, I can pay for things." He continued his blank look.

"Fine. Tell him to pick me up at nine. And let him know that we'll be meeting some people there. Don't forget to lock up on your way out."

Damn. Didn't know I had it in me to be so blunt. I just sat there on the couch, watching him stare at me. I could tell that he was not sure about me anymore. And why isn't he leaving? Doesn't he know a dismissal when he hears one? Wasn't he in the Army, or something?

"Meet me at Big Jim's for lunch tomorrow. 12:00," he told me.

I just smiled and shook my head.

"What?" He asked. He'd never even considered that I might have other plans.

"I'm busy."

"Anything in particular?" His voice didn't give any indication of his feelings.

"Yes." I could tell he wanted me to continue, but I wasn't going to.

"Dinner at seven, then." He told me.

"Ranger," I sighed and closed my eyes. I don't think he would understand, so I didn't even try to explain.

"Fine, Stephanie." I heard the first edge of anger to his voice. "When would you like for us to meet to discuss the rest of this job?"

"Dinner tomorrow night would be fine, Ranger. Where would you like me to meet you?" My voice sounded hollow, even to me.

"I'll pick you up. Be ready at eight." He didn't sound all that happy either. I wondered if I just had that effect on people?

I shut my eyes and just sat there, trying to assimilate all of the information I'd received in the past half hour, until I heard a knock on my door. I was too tired to do anything about it, so I just sat there, on my couch, doing nothing.

Tank called through the door to let me know who it was. "Hey, Angel. I'll just let myself in."

I don't think the door was even locked. His eyes went from me, to the chocolate ice cream melting on the coffee table, and back to me.

After quickly putting the ice cream in the freezer, Tank strode back over to me and sat down. I tried to get myself ready for the song and dance routine I'd have to go through with him. I even had all my answers ready - Yes, Tank. Everything's just wonderful. And how about yourself?

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked me.

Well, that was an improvement. At least he isn't asking stupid questions like, "How you holding up?" or "Is everything all right?"

I turned to give him a hug. He was a friend, and he was concerned. I didn't need to shut him out. I just had to keep repeating that to myself so I wouldn't get snappy and drive my friend away. I leaned back against him, accepting the support he offered while I considered my answer. No seemed too rude. Not that that would normally bother me, but I couldn't do that with Tank, especially when he's being all nice like this. He really makes it rather hard to be a bitch sometimes. I finally decided on a condensed and abridged version.

"Morelli broke in to tell me about Blackwell. Then Ranger showed up and told me about a job in Vegas. Oh, you're taking me shopping tomorrow at nine." There. That summed it up quite nicely without any of those pesky details, like emotions.

"How'd you handle Morelli?" Figured that would be his first question. Tank was almost obsessed with training me on self defense and gun work. Those were his words. The words I used were never so nice.

"I didn't know it was him."

"You pulled a gun on Morelli?" ESP at its best. He sounded rather surprised.

"Yeah, I'm not used to people breaking into my apartment anymore." And I wasn't. The people who had broken in on a regular basis left. Everyone else knocked. Except the bad guys, but I managed to get them under control. Usually.

"You shouldn't be used to it. Not safe like that. Should get an alarm system."

"I know, but they're expensive, and you need to have them installed, and…"

He started to laugh. At least one of us was. This was a routine I pulled whenever anyone mentioned an alarm system.

"How many times have we been through this?" He asked me.

In my most innocent tone, I informed him that I had no idea whatsoever what he was talking about.

"Need a place to stay until the whole Blackwell thing blows over?" Tank offered.

I put a fake smile on my face. "No, but thanks. We're leaving for Vegas day after tomorrow. You're coming, right?"

"Why'd you agree to go?" He asked, and I sighed.

"Why not?" There, see? That wasn't a lie. Though if I told him the truth, it would be a different answer. If I told him the truth, it would run somewhere along the lines of 'I owe Ranger.'

"Not to mention you get nice, fat checks to go along with each one you accept, huh?"

I laughed a little, trying to make light of the situation. "Yeah." I said. "Something like that."

After a little while, Tank left, and I went into my bedroom. I opened my sock drawer and pulled out the envelope that held a single check stub. It had been made out to me, from Rangeman. $10,000.00 for surveillance, assist in a take down, and compensation for injuries obtained as a direct result of employment. It was a check for the work I did during the Ramos mess. I hadn't done it for the money. I did it because he had been a friend, and he had asked me to help. Sometimes, I just needed to look at it, remind myself that it's there, and that it's real. I tend to do it when I feel my fantasy world creeping up on me again.

Then I laid down on my bed and tried to sleep.

As the alarm clock startled me, I lost count. So far, the most sheep I've had has been in the in the twenty thousands. I remember seeing _Once Upon a Mattress _when I was in my teens. It had been a cute musical, based on the Princess and the Pea. Right now, it wasn't so cute. I felt like Fred. "37,428! What do you stuff your mattresses with!" Although my problem had nothing to do with peas and everything to do with fear. As I got out of bed, I pondered all the things going on in my life at the moment. The list turned out to be way to long, so I decided to just get ready.

I looked at the clock. Eight. I had called the girls last night and told them to meet me at 10:30. None of them asked why, which made me wonder if they thought I needed a shopping trip for its more therapeutic qualities. Probably. After all, they knew Ranger was back. Then again, they knew Ranger was back, so it's even more probable that they were hoping to pump me for gossip to feed the grapevine.

I jumped into the shower and was out in record time. I went with the soft curly look for my hair, and plastered it with hairspray to keep it in place. I skimped on the make up, only one coat of mascara and eye-liner.

With 15 minutes left, I ran into my room and scrounged through my closet looking for something that wasn't too wrinkled. Unfortunately, I really had to do laundry, so my choices were limited to jeans and a t-shirt, or jeans and a t-shirt.

I grabbed my purse and made sure I had all of the essentials. Cell phone, hair spray, make-up, cuffs, pager, nail file, pepper spray, wallet. Yep, everything I needed. There was a knock on my door and I quickly stuck my gun in the small of my back. After all, better safe than sorry.

Right on time. I opened the door, ready to greet Tank, but it wasn't him.


	2. Here and Now 2

**Seven Up**

**Part One – Here and Now**

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* * *

Two

* * *

**

"What are you doing here Morelli." I didn't want him to be there, especially after one of my really bad nights, when my emotions are almost at the surface. Just a little scratch now, and it would all come crashing down.

"What's wrong, Cupcake?" Apparently, he picked up on the fact that I didn't want him there.

"Nothing, Joe," I sighed. "Why did you come by?"

"Thought maybe you didn't realize that I'd really meant what I said the other day. About missing you, so I came to demonstrate."

"Demonst-" Was all I got out before he took me by the shoulders and pressed his mouth to mine.

My clothes were finally gone. All that I had left covering me were my bra and panties. And he took care of those soon after. I was so scared I was shaking. There was nothing covering me. Nothing to shield me from this psycho. Not even a thin layer to protect me.

No! I had to get loose. I wasn't going to let this happen. Not again. I couldn't. I was struggling to get out of his grasp, but he only tightened his grip on my shoulders. I couldn't push him away, he was just too strong, but it had been a long time since I was just another pretty face. It had been a long time since I'd been helpless. I started to fight – really fight to get free, to get away from him. When I did, I realized that it was Joe, and he was now on the floor, looking worse for wear.

"Shit, Stephanie, what was that for?" He didn't sound happy.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"I'll live." I looked; his lip was already swelling and a bruise was starting to darken on his eye. He didn't look like he was prone to listen, so I started to slowly back out of the door, only to run into a brick wall. Since when is there a brick wall in my door way? Wait, no, that's Tank. I turned and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before grabbing my purse and walking down the hall.

"Let's get outta here, Tank." I told him.

Tank turned and followed me to the elevator, but only after Joe had looked away from their staring thing. Men. Go figure.

"Steph, Angel, Honey, are you ok?" I heard Tank asking me.

"Am I ok? Yeah, I'm peachy, thanks. And yourself?" What is wrong with me? I'm snapping at Tank. Although I really didn't think he'd throw me out of a window at this point in our relationship. "I'm sorry."

Tank gave me a look like I was a bomb ready to explode. Really, though, it was only fair. The way I was feeling I probably would explode.

Tank pulled me to him and squeezed me into a great big bear hug. He's really surprisingly good at giving you that safe feeling when he does that. Probably it's because he's as tall as Shaq and built like, well, like a tank.

The elevator doors dinged open, and we stepped out and walked towards the Bronco. It was a surprisingly companionable silence on the drive to the mall.

"Where are you meeting the girls?"

Well shit, I had almost forgotten.

"Food court. I'll have to explain all of this to them, too." I let out a huge sigh.

"Look on the bright side," he told me. "At least you'll get to explain it to all three of them at once."

That was true. At least I won't have to go through it three separate times.

"So," Tank asked me. "What're we gettin'?"

"Ranger didn't tell you?" I was starting to get a funny feeling.

"Nope."

"Uh…" I stalled. Then I'm pretty sure I turned a few interesting shades of red. "Well…"

"No way." Tank was turning a nice scarlet, too. "Uh huh. He wouldn't."

"Um, well, you can sit on one of the mall benches," I suggested.

By this time, Tank was cursing Ranger and muttering various methods to bring about his untimely demise. While I found that quite interesting and was filing some of it away for my own blue vocabulary, I had to meet the girls in an hour. I sat him down on a bench with a promise that he wouldn't actually have to go into Victoria's Secret. He'd been so worked up that I just reacted. I'm sure that if he'd realized I was talking to him in that voice all women use for animals and small children, he would have been seriously pissed. As it was, he was too busy thinking of the most painful way of killing Ranger to worry too much about what I was doing.

I had used that voice with Bob and Rex, too. Rex I still have, but my life style wasn't compatible to a high-maintenance pet like Bob. Dillon on the other hand just loved Bob. Now the two of them sit in the bowels of my apartment building watching T.V. and eating cheese doodles. I figured it was a pretty good plan, cause I still got to see him every now and again. Not to mention that Dillon became willing to do any and all handy work that needed to be done in my apartment, free of charge. I even got rid of that awful orange and brown in my bathroom. Now I have nice white and blue, a vast improvement.

When I came out of the store, I was pretty pleased with myself. I'd gotten everything I thought I could ever possibly need, and had gotten around Ranger's insistence that he would pay for it. Not to mention Tank didn't have to come into the store with me. I think both of us would have been mortally embarrassed.

We made our way to the food court and found the girls midway through their ice creams.

"Hey girl!" Lula yelled. "How you be doing? And is that Tank you have with you? Why he be here shopping? You need a bodyguard or something?"

Tank just looked at me and gave me a smile that said, "You're on your own for this one." Damn.

By this time, the three of them had made their way over to us and had formed a little half-circle around me. They were looking at me expectantly. Scary how many similarities I could find between them and vultures at that point. It must be something about the gossip potential I present. Damn scavengers, looking at me like a piece of dead…don't ask. Animal Planet was all about them last night. The birds, not my friends.

Giving a little sigh, I started.

"Tank, you wanna get some ice cream?" He took the hint.

We all sat down at the table they had saved, and I began the reason for our little meeting.

"Well, you all know Ranger's back, right?"

"_OhmiGod_. You're going on a date with Ranger!" Mary Lou squealed.

"Girl, how come you doin' that? That man done walked out of here for six months and now you goin' on a _date_ with him?" Lula continued for her.

"Wow. He is sooo hot." Lula shot Connie a look. "But still, you can't just let him come back and start dating you."

"Guys." I said.

They ignored me and kept giving me more reasons on why I shouldn't be dating Ranger. As if I hadn't already gone over each and every one already, trying to convince myself to stop feeling anything for the man.

"_Shut up!_" I finally said. They all stopped and looked at me with eyes wide. "I'm not going on a date with Ranger or anyone else for that matter. Do you understand?"

They just nodded. I had to fight the urge to pat them all on their little heads and tell them what good little girls they were.

"Ranger stopped by the other day." I gave them a look that dared them to jump to conclusions. They didn't. "There's a job that he asked me to do. It's out of town, and it'll take a few weeks. So I just wanted to let you guys know. That's all."

I just sat there, waiting for someone else to say something.

"So tell me exactly why Tank is here?" Mary Lou asked me.

Speak of the devil, he'd just come back with two ice creams in his hands. They looked ridiculously small in his hands.

Tank heard the question, and narrowed his eyes at me while he handed me my ice cream.

"I was supposed to pay for the stuff Steph needed, since it's for the job. We'll have to talk about that, Stephanie." So he'd figured out my little trick. It would be an understatement to say he was not a happy camper.

"You need new panties for a job? What kind of job is this?" Connie wanted to know.

"Supposedly I'll find out tonight." I mollified her, telling her that I wouldn't do anything I thought was bad. Honestly, though, I had a feeling that there would be a huge gap between where Connie would draw the "bad" line, and where I would. For all the Family connections Connie has, she's very righteous about her morals.

"Well, guys. That's about it. Just – be extra careful when I'm gone. One of the crazies I brought in broke out of jail and I'm not sure what he'll do. So you'll be careful?" I asked them. They reluctantly agreed, not really seeing the reason behind it. Since I didn't want to explain, I made them promise to call my cell if they thought anything odd was going on.

Tank and I walked out of the mall, leaving the girls to finish their ice cream. Tank had already devoured his cone, and was giving mine a look over. I felt bad for dragging him around, so I handed it over.

"Decide to take the scenic route back to my apartment?" I asked Tank.

"Don't you need to tell your mother that you'll be gone for a while?"

I sighed. "Oh. Yeah." Shit, I was not looking forward to this at all. What could I say to her? She was still mad at me for breaking up with Morelli, even though he humiliated me by fake-proposing. Of course, she didn't believe that he would say something like that in front of his mother and grandmother and not mean it. Oh, no, she would rather believe that I chose to lie to her about it. Go figure.

"Not now, Tank. I'll do it later." I was procrastinating. He knew it. I knew it. But I was not going to talk to my mother right then. It just wasn't going to happen.

At the next street, Tank turned to take me back to my apartment. I sat back against the seat and started to think about my life again. Then, I remembered that I was supposed to go to dinner with Ranger tonight, and started to think that maybe I should look into getting a new life. Surely they had a life store somewhere, didn't they?

Tank and I got to my apartment and unloaded the bags. When we had gotten everything in, we settled down on the couch and watched a game. The game Tank landed on was soccer. Personally, the only reason I didn't complain was because Tank looked so enthralled.

"So, what's with this job?" I asked Tank during the commercial break. Or maybe it was a time-out. Who knows? I'd stopped paying attention when all of those cards started to get waved around. What was with that?

Tank gave me a surreptitious look. "I guess he'll brief you tonight at dinner."

Meaning Ranger hadn't given him the go ahead to tell me about the job. It really wasn't a big deal. I could deal with the curiosity until tonight. Fact of the matter was, I really wasn't that curious about the job, more that he would ask _me_ to help him. Probably, he just needed a pair of tits, and I fit the bill.

When the game was over, the score was still 0-0, and I was beginning to understand why people got so excited about the whole soccer thing.

He shut the TV off and turned to look at me. I had the feeling I was in trouble.

"Stephanie," he started. "You know, the whole point of my going to the mall with you today was so that I could pay for…that stuff."

_That_ was a bald-faced lie. If Ranger had only wanted the company to buy the stuff, he would have given me cash, or told me to give him the receipt, or something. Sending Tank, both Ranger and Tank got to make sure I was safe. Probably, it was overkill, since all they knew was that a skip I brought in had escaped from the clutches of the law, sputtering curses at me as he went.

"Of _course_ it was, Tank." I was wearing my 'you're full of shit' smile. "But let me ask you a question. Does Ranger buy your boxers? Cause, you know, you'll need them on this job."

"That's not the same thing…" he started to protest. I think part of him was still wondering about how I knew he wore boxers.

"Yes, it is. Believe it or not, I'm more than capable of buying my own panties." He seemed to consider for a minute before nodding.

"Ok, I've gotta go. Have fun tonight."

"Yeah. Should be a barrel of laughs." He shot me a worried look. "Go home to Susie, Tank. Dinner is probably on the table."

Tank gave me another one of those looks before getting up to leave.

"And Tank?" I caught his attention. "Please, don't lie to me. I don't want to find out that I was mistaken in placing my respect and trust in you."

It wasn't a threat, it just was. Tank knew that, and responded to it as in a way that he wouldn't respond to any threat – he was visibly shaken. If it was possible for a black man to go white, I think he would have. I watched through my window as he drove slowly out of the parking lot.

I had time to kill before Ranger came. Not enough time for me to go pick up one of my skips, but enough time that I would get way too bored if I didn't do anything. I decided to do something useful and started to pack for the job. Less than two minutes later the phone rang. I let my answering machine pick up.

"Stephanie Plum! I don't understand this. Why don't you ever answer your phone?" She asked my machine.

Duh, maybe it's because I'm not home? No matter that I actually was home and just not answering the phone, but it's possible that I could actually have a life.

There was a pregnant pause before she continued, "Stephanie, I want you to call me as soon as you get this." Then there was another pause, before the tell-tale "click" of the phone being hung-up. She was more than just angry, she didn't even say goodbye. I made a mental note to go by the house tomorrow.

Not five minutes later, the phone was ringing again.

"Steph? I know you're there." It was Mary Lou.

I went over to pick up the phone.

"Hi."

"Hey, I just realized you don't have anyone to look after your hamster. So you want me to come by and pick him up?"

"Oh." Wow, I hadn't even thought about Rex. How could I have forgotten him? "Yeah, that would be great. Thanks Mary Lou. Ranger's picking me up at eight tonight, can you get here before then?"

"Sure, I'm actually at the office right now, so I'll be over in ten."

"The office? Vinnie's office? Why are you there?"

"Uh, well, we went out for coffee."

Probably they were discussing my mental health. Probably I should have picked up a new life while I was out shopping today. Or maybe just returned some old friends. I still loved the girls, but we just didn't understand each other anymore. All they were concerned about was the latest gossip, and it may be cynical and paranoid, but it seemed as though whenever we got together, they just tried to pump me for information for the grapevine. Really we weren't all that close that more. Surprisingly, that really didn't bother me all that much. Go figure.

"Steph?" Apparently, I'd been silent for too long.

"Oh, ok. See you in a few," I told her.

I hung up and looked at my packing. So far I had only managed to pack a duffel bag. I had put all my extra ammunition into it, leaving the guns in my gun locker until we actually left, and then cut off the tags to my new purchases and put those in as well. I paused for a minute and looked at the contents of the bag, considering the fact that I'd just put lingerie and guns in the same bag, before dismissing the irony of it. I was going to pack more, but I was stopped by the fact that I didn't have any clean clothes to pack. So I went down to the basement with all of my dirty clothes. The owners of the building had finally decided that a laundry room was a necessity, so they had taken the tiny apartment next to Dillon's and put in washing machines and dryers. Personally, I think that their decision to do this was for less altruistic reasons. Probably they could get more money from raising everybody's rent for the new amenities than they could from the pittance of a rent for that apartment. Nevertheless, I was glad it was there. I shoved all the clothes I could fit into the first washer, added detergent and quarters, and started it on the heavy duty cycle. I fit the rest of my clothes into a second washing machine and did the same thing.

Gathering my laundry baskets, I headed back upstairs, running into Mary Lou on the way.

"Hey Mare."

"Hey Steph."

We got to my apartment and went in, sitting at the counter and discussing Lenny's latest mistake. This was one topic that we could still relate on – men can be such idiots.

"Hey, what's this?" Mary Lou asked, picking up a white business card.

"Did I drop my one of my cards?" I asked her, but then I saw her face blanche slightly.

"Uh, I don't think so."

"Well, give it here." I told her, taking the card out of her hands.

My face paled, too, when I saw who's card it was.

"Terri Gilman."

"Yeah." Mary Lou answered. "So what do you think you're gonna do? How do you think she got into your apartment? Or was it someone who had her card that was in your apartment? Would Morelli have her card? Stupid question. I bet he does, or at least, did."

This was one of the reasons I tried to avoid the girls when I could. They couldn't just leave something be – they had to vocalize and analyze every little thing, and then let it loose to the grapevine. I had no doubt that within an hour, the whole Burg would know about the card on my counter. I don't appreciate violations of my privacy.

"Here's Rex. Thanks for keeping him for me. And here are his grapes and hamster nuggets. I gotta go see if my laundry's done. I have to be packed tonight, because I don't know when we're leaving."

Mary Lou gave me a long, hard look before giving me one last hug, an admonition to be careful, and leaving with Rex.

Terri Gilman, I thought to myself, I wonder. Because of my recent success in the bounty hunting business, I had treated myself to a new phone, complete with an electronic log of all of the incoming and outgoing calls. I scrolled down on the phone to see what the last number dialed was. It was the Trenton PD, and since I hadn't called them for a few days, I deduced that Joe must have called. What can I say, me and Sherlock Holmes.

I looked to the number dialed just before that, and lo and behold, it was the number on Terri's card. This was getting interesting. What should I do with this information? As I put the card back on the counter, a number of possibilities ran through my head, but I really did need to go switch my clothes to the dryer, so I decided to put these thoughts on hold while I finished my laundry.

I had gotten all of my clean clothes back in my apartment, and was debating if I had time to go for a run before Ranger was going to pick me up. Only 45 minutes. Probably not. I was heartbroken. Really. No, the only thing I hate more than running is getting shot. I had started running when Ranger disappeared and he was no longer around to help me with my skips. Not only did I start running, I joined a gym, too. All that exercise was tortuous, but not only did it help me get my skips, it allowed me to eat whatever I wanted without having to worry about fitting into my jeans.

Since I didn't have much time, I decided I'd just finish my packing. I grabbed another duffel bag and threw all of my exercise clothes in with sports bras and panties and socks and running shoes. Then in went different color-coordinated tops and bottoms. If the need arose, and I had access to a washing machine, I could live for weeks off of what I had packed. And I was done packing – for now. Just before I left, I would add my toiletries, but until then, I was finished. You wouldn't be lying if you said I was glad. In fact, I was so happy that I was done, I almost did the snoopy dance. Almost. Packing is another one of those things I rank right up there with running.

There was a knock on the door and I looked at the time. Eight o'clock. Time flies when you're having fun. Except I wasn't…oh well. Doesn't really matter. I opened the door to the sexiest man it Trenton.

"Yo."

"Yo, yourself." Then I saw the bag of groceries in his hands. Hmm. I did a facial contortion in an effort to raise an eyebrow at the bag, but stepped back to let him in.

"Thought I'd cook for you instead of taking you out."

"Oh, ok." Damn, Steph, you could have said a little more than that. He'll think you're rude, or something. Right, like that's what I was really worried about. He put his bag on the counter, and picked up a white business card – _Terri's_ card. Oops.

"Hanging out with the mob, Babe?" he asked.

Yeah, right. About my closest Family connection was Connie. Or maybe Vinnie's father-in-law. No, it would be Ramos. Crazy old goat still sends me flowers.

"Yeah. I was thinking about picking up some contracts."

He instantly tensed, and his face turned wary. I couldn't keep the sardonic grin off my face, and I just shook my head at him.

"That's great, Ranger. Did you know they took gullible out of the dictionary? They added one though – sarcasm."

He just kept looking at me with that wary look on his face.

"Fine. Call someone. Have them look into my Family connections. They'll tell you about Ramos, Lucille's father and Connie." Ranger still didn't move. I turned to grab the phone to call Tank and have him check me out, but I must have moved too quickly while Ranger was still freaked out. He had his gun trained on me and was telling me not to move before my hand reached the phone.

"I was just going to get the phone, Ranger. That's all I was going to do. I was going to call Tank. Remember, Ranger, how I told you to call someone and check me out since you didn't believe me? I was just calling Tank, Ranger. I was just going to have him dig on me." I was trying to make my voice soothing and calming. But I really, _really_ wanted to be talking to Tank right then. I was pretty sure he would know how to talk Ranger down. Unfortunately, I didn't think I could move far enough to get to the phone before I would get shot. And Ranger still hadn't said anything.

"Ranger, I'm going to turn back around, ok? I'm gonna do it nice and slow and my hands are going to be high above my head, Ranger. I'm not going for anything, Ranger, I'm just going to turn around and face you, ok?" And I did. And I didn't get shot. And I didn't pee my pants. Brownie points for me, but Ranger still wasn't moving.

"Jesus shit, Ranger. _Think_ for a minute." Ok, so I'd given up on the calming effect. But hey, I was getting really pissed. "If I was going to become an assassin, do you really think I'd kill the mark in my fucking apartment? Give me a little more credit than that. And if I was going to become Family, I sure as hell wouldn't run to Terri Gilman to get me in. Hell, even I know that you need to go to someone higher up than her. And not only that, she's a fucking police informant – a weasel. Like I'd really go to a weasel when I wanted a slice of the organized crime pie. Besides, if I really wanted in on all that, I'd go to old man Ramos. He'd hire me in two seconds flat. Probably he'd make me marry him first, but he'd still hire me. Shit, Ranger, my arms are getting tired. Can I put them down now?"

"You're wearing hardware. I want it before I let you move."

Whatever. Lactic acid build up is a bitch. "Sure. You wanna take them or you want me to give them to you?"

"I'll get them. Move and I'll shoot you. Understand?"

"Sure." And I did understand – he was completely serious. It made me want to laugh, though maybe that was because I wasn't going to cry. He took the Browning in the holster at my side and the Seacamp at the small of my back and stepped away. And lowered his gun. It was still in his hand at his side, and I had no doubt that he could get a shot off, aimed right at me, within half a second. But shit, he didn't get all my stuff. I had to choose between telling him and having him get pissy because he missed them, or let him find them later and have him get pissy that he'd let his guard down, however slightly, when the threat was still armed. It was a lose-lose situation. I sighed.

"There's more." He raised an eyebrow. "There's a piece on my right ankle, a knife on my left and my back." I thought for a minute before adding, "And sureguard in my right pocket, extra clips in my left." He didn't say anything for a long minute.

"Anything else?" He asked. I took another minute to think.

"I don't think so. Maybe a nail file in a pocket somewhere, I'm not sure." He had me face the wall and gave me a thorough pat down. He found everything – including the nail file that was, in fact, in my back pocket. Somehow, when I'd long ago imagined Ranger's hands in my pockets, it was never once in this context.

"If I get killed," I told him, "because you have all my shit I'm coming back and haunting you."

"Someone out to get you babe?"

"There always seems to be." He nodded.

"Fair enough. How'd that card get on your counter." Well, that was a change of gears.

"I don't know," I told him. And it was true, too. I didn't _know_, I just had an educated guess.

"Stephanie," he started. I interrupted.

"Swear to God. Mary Lou came over to get Rex and she found it. You can call her to verify if you'd like."

"You can turn around and put your arms down now." Thank God. They felt like they were going to fall off.

"Can I get the phone? I promise I'll move nice and slow and keep my hands visible at all times." He nodded. I kept my word. Getting shot was not on my top ten list. I got the phone by moving really, really slowly, and handed it to him with exaggerated care. Then, I gave him Mary Lou's number.

"And I'm sure you know Tank's, or whoever you want to call to check on me." He didn't make any move to dial. "Call them," I told him. "Now." Still, Ranger stood there.

"Ranger, you held me at gunpoint for fifteen freaking minutes because you were freaked about a business card and didn't like the answer I gave you. The least you can do is call to verify my story."

"Why do you have so much hardware?" He finally asked.

Because I'm building a birdhouse.

"When you play with the big boys, you either get in the game or drop out of the race," I told him. Wasn't that on a t-shirt or something? It should be.

"What happened to your S&W?"

"It's in my gun locker." He gave me another one of those inscrutable looks.

"You have a gun locker?" No, I just said that for the hell of it.

"What, you wanted me to keep storing my guns in my cookie jar?" I asked him, incredulous.

"Only you, babe. Only you." He smiled and shook his head.

"Will you please make the calls Ranger?"

He finally got off his high horse and called Tank. At least, I think it was Tank – I could only hear half of the conversation.

"Yo."

"Need a run on someone. … Family ties. … Stephanie Plum. … Just do it. … Now." And he hung up.

"Now Mary Lou?" I asked.

"No way, babe."

"No way?" That was more than a little curious.

"Nope."

"Oh-kay." Definitely curious. "Well, then, why don't you tell me about this job."

"Not yet." Not yet? Ah, the whole mob thing.

"Whatever. I'll be in the family room." I turned and walked away. Albeit, I did it slowly, but I did it. And he didn't stop me. Or shoot me. That was the really important one. If I got shot, I was going to be seriously pissed off.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard Ranger's cell phone ring. Meanwhile, I had dug out my dictionary and bookmarked and highlighted two words.

Ranger's voice was too deep, and he was talking too softly for me to hear even his half of the conversation. But when he was done, he came out into the living room and laid my pieces on the coffee table.

"So I'm guessing nobody could find anything?" Ranger shook his head. I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue and sing the 'I told you so' song. Probably it wouldn't be conducive to positive professional relations. Go figure.

"There are some words in here I think you need to reacquaint yourself with. I have them marked for you." I handed the dictionary to him and started to redress myself. He watched me carefully until I strapped the last piece on and shoved the sureguard into my pocket. I was still holding the nail file – I had an edge I wanted to smooth out. And did he really think that I was going to stab him with it or something? Can you say paranoid?

"Am I gonna gave to worry about you shooting me all night? Or can I relax in my own home and move around without being careful not to make any sudden moves and making sure my hands are visible at all times?"

He didn't answer. Neither did he make a move to open the dictionary.

"Read the definitions, then get back to me." I went into the kitchen and started looking in the bags he'd brought. I just put everything in the fridge, bags and all. I didn't know if anything would spoil. And it's not like I had anything else in there, anyway. Ranger followed a minute later.

"Haha. Very funny," he said. I smiled. The words had been sarcasm and overreaction.

"So are you going to tell me about this job or what," I asked.

Again with the staring.

"Fine," I told him. "I'm sure you can find someone with better legs anyway. Don't forget your groceries and be sure to lock the door when you leave." I was walking out of the kitchen, but Ranger was standing in the doorway. As I was brushing past him, he grabbed me, pushing me against the wall. I didn't even think, I just reacted. We'd done something similar before, and he'd pinned me easily. The difference was that this time I knew what I was doing. The difference was that this time he was trying not to hurt me, and I wasn't returning the favor.

I hooked a foot behind his knee and we fell to the ground, tussling for a few minutes before I had him flat on his back – an elbow to his wind pipe and a knee to his balls.

"Don't you ever," I told him. "_Ever_ manhandle me again. _Especially_ in my own home, where you are a _guest._" He moved slightly, so I pushed my elbow deeper, cutting off his air for a few seconds before easing up. "I put up with your shit for the past half-hour, which was the direct result of your stupidity and insecurity. I put up with you holding a gun on me because you got freaked out. I let you be a real shit-head for a while. But I _won't_ put up with you fucking grabbing me and shoving me against the wall because you got pissed I'm not a naïve, helpless little girl anymore. I won't let anybody, not even you, act like I am. And I won't let anybody, _especially_ not you, maul me in my own apartment. Do you understand me?"

Nothing. No response whatsoever. This was not acceptable.

"Answer me," I told him and added pressure to my elbow and knee. He let out a gritted yes.

"Now, I'm going to get up, and you're going to get out of my apartment. If you decide you still want me to do this job, you will either meet me somewhere not my apartment and be a gentleman, or send someone else to do it for you." With that, I got up and moved across the room from him so I would be far out of reach when he got up. He stayed down, placing his hands on his stomach and shutting his eyes.

Now I've never claimed to have some master understanding of the male psyche, but in my experience, this was the part when the guy got up, made some snide remarks about your sexuality, and stomped out. Really, though, I didn't have time to stand there and figure it out.

"Whatever, Ranger. If we're not going to be productive, I've gotta go. I have work to do. Call me if you feel up to being civil. Or at least leave a note saying if you still want me for the job."

I stalked into my bedroom and put on my Kevlar vest and my utility belt, on which went my Seacamp and Browning, the sureguard, stun gun, some handcuffs and extra clips. The Beretta went on one ankle, and my knives were already in place. Overkill? Probably, but I wasn't going to be anybody's victim. Never again. And besides, I was leaving the Glock and assault rifles at home. When I got back to the living room, Ranger was still on his back. I stuck my license, some cash, and a credit card in one pocket and my cell in the other, grabbed my keys, and headed for the door.

"Mind if I go with you?" Ranger's deep voice stopped me.

"That depends, I guess."

"On?" He asked.

"Are you going to be pissy all night? Are you going to let me handle this without getting all weird? Are you going to do what I tell you? Are you going to argue with everything I say? Are you going to be able to let go of that much control?"

"I'll be cool." He'd better be or he was liable to get a foot shoved so far up his ass… OK, so I had some pent up anger and frustration.

"Whatever. Come on. If you don't have a vest in your car, you can use my extra."

"What are we doing?" he asked. I gave him a look and bit back the sarcasm that was fighting to get out. After all, last time, it hadn't gone over too well.

"Fugitive apprehension," I told him.

"He dangerous?"

"The skip?" I asked. We were going after the White brothers – Barry White and Larry White. They were fat, and stupid, and drunks. They were also car thieves who had a tendency to forget to wear gloves while stealing those cars, and were even more forgetful about their appointments with the court. Or maybe they were just too drunk to realize they were supposed to go. "No, they're more like the Pillsbury dough boys, but it never hurts to be careful." Ranger nodded. He was the one that taught me that. I grabbed the files from my desk, the two on the brothers, and four I'd gotten before the weekend, and we headed out. After the White brothers, I had another skip to pick up, but I was hoping that I could do it without Ranger.

"You really got another vest?" He asked me.

"No, I just said that to sound cool." Hey, I couldn't help it. It just came out. I actually have two extra vests in my car. One was my size, and the other was Lula-sized. Ranger seemed too big for the one, and not the right shape for the other. "I don't know if either'll fit you, but you're welcome to try," I told him.

"It's good. I got one in my car." I nodded. It made sense for him to have one. I waited at his car for him to get his vest on and armor up, checking each of his pieces much like I had less than ten minutes ago. I watched with impassive eyes, waiting for Ranger to finish. He shut the trunk and we headed over to the Buick.

I had just bought a new Range Rover, but it would take a few more weeks for Al to finish all the extras I was having him put in. It wasn't a big deal. I'd finally gotten used to Big Blue.

"Files are on the dash," I told him. "There's a flashlight in the glove compartment." He took both and read the files on the White brothers.

"How do you want to play this?" Ranger asked when he was finished reading.

"They'll be in a bar. They're usually in a bar from the time they get up to the time they pass out. Until they run out of money and need to pull another job. Right now, they're in a little hell hole called 'The Last Hoorah.'" I'd gotten a call earlier, and the bartender told me that they had planted themselves in a booth in the back and weren't planning on leaving until they were kicked out. "We'll just do the standard. When we go in, I need to talk to the bartender, but after that, we just go to the booth, identify ourselves, cuff them, and bring them back to the station." I wasn't sure why he wanted to know. After all, he'd been the one to teach me.

"Let me rephrase. What do you want me to do?" He asked me. What do I want him to do? Did it matter? He never listened to what I told him anyway.

"Follow me, I guess." That was what he wanted to do, and what Ranger wants, Ranger gets. He'd come in with me even if I asked him to do something else. Might as well make it seem like my idea. "Just don't do anything drastic," I told him. "I have an agreement with the bartender." He raised an eyebrow, but I ignored it.

When we got there, I pulled up to the curb and got out, locking the doors. Not that anybody would want to steal the big blue monstrosity, but it was habit.

"Just follow my lead," I reminded Ranger as we walked up to the bar. When Bruce caught sight of me, I put two fingers up, motioning to Ranger. He came over with our drinks and told me the boys were in a booth in the back. I drank my pretend rum and coke, then Ranger's, since he wasn't touching it. Besides, I was thirsty.

It was all part of the agreement Bruce and I had come to. I would call him when the White brothers were FTA, and when they came into the bar, he would call and let me know. When I got there to pick them up, I'd go to the bar and get a rum and coke – minus the rum, and lay money down for the help. It was a smooth operation. I got something to drink and when I paid him, nobody was the wiser about Bruce being one of my weasels.

I slipped the money on the table and headed toward the back, Ranger hot at my heals. It didn't take long to find the boys, they were well on their way to making a spectacle of themselves. I slid into the booth next to Barry, and Ranger followed suit, trapping Larry in. They smelled like they'd been bathed in alcohol, it was enough to make the eyes water. But Larry and Barry White were big boys that knew how to hold their liquor, so they were nowhere near drunk enough to go with me without understanding what was going on.

"Hey!" Larry exclaimed. "I thought we had a deal. You said you wouldn't bring anybody." Last time I'd brought them in, Lula had ridden shot gun. Let's just say that the three of them didn't get along all that well.

"No," I told him. "I said that I wouldn't bring Lula. This isn't Lula. Or do you need glasses that badly." Just because they could hold their alcohol didn't mean either one of them was very smart. It took them a while to work through what I said.

"No," Barry finally told me. "He doesn't look a whole lot like Lula."

I just sighed. "Come on boys, finish up your drinks, ok?"

They nodded and drank up like good little car thieves. We all of us stood and I herded the three men out of the bar, waving to Bruce on my way. Once outside, I turned them around and cuffed them. Not Ranger, of course, though the thought did hold some appeal. Bruce came out just as I was finishing.

"Yo, Angel," he heralded me and walked closer. "Dese boys been gettin' inta some shit a little stronga den what I sell. You hear me?" I did. He was telling me that they'd started experimenting with drugs.

"Hard?" I asked.

"Naw, naw, man. Mild. Real light. Just thought maybe you'd relieve them of it. You know, so them boys don't get inta no mo' trouble. You know what I sayin'?"

"I gotcha, don't worry about it. You should get your customers back soon."

"Straight, Angel. Damn straight. Later."

"Later, Bruce." He walked back in the bar without a glance backwards, trusting me to take care of the situation now that he'd informed me of it. I turned to the boys. Probably they only had the dregs of some marijuana. Maybe some papers if they hadn't gone through them all.

I turned to them and asked, "OK, which of you's got the stuff?" They made a lot of noises about how they had no idea what I was talking about. So I took matters into my own hands.

"Ranger you take the one on the left. I'll take the one on the right."

About half way through, Ranger spoke up. "Shit these guys smell. You owe me for this."

"Nuh-huh," I told him. "You volunteered for this ride. If you want, though, I'll drop you off on the way to the station. Then maybe you can start to sterilize yourself." I knew that was what I would be doing as soon as I packed it in for the night.

"Probably I will. But I'll stick with the program 'til the end, babe."

I had finished with my brother, and all I'd found were some papers. And that's all _anybody_ would find short of a strip search. _Nothing_ could get me to do that.

"Find anything?" I asked. He tossed me a bag.

"Looks like hash. Low grade. About like smoking tree bark."

"Yum. Can you handle getting them in the car?" I asked, handing him the keys. "I've gotta go take care of this." He nodded and took them to the car while I went to the bar's bathroom to flush the contents of the bag and throw the papers away.

The trip to the station passed in relative silence, the only noises the occasional hushed whisper of one of the wonder boys in the back.

"Stay here?" I asked Ranger when we got to the station. His answer was one of those almost imperceptible head nods that he has all but patented.

"Come on, boys," I told Larry and Barry, opening the back door for them. They slid off the seat and shuffled toward the station.

I got them processed in record time, grabbing the receipts and hitting the road. Probably it had something to do with not running into anyone I knew. Really though, I should have known it was too good to be true. When I got back to the car, Ranger was leaning against it. That in itself wasn't a problem. The fact that Joseph Morelli was standing a few feet away from him and that they were having what looked like an intense conversation was.

"So," I asked them. "What are you boys up too?" I pasted a nice smile on my face, betting that Ranger would just look at me and Morelli would give me a brief, quasi-lie of an explanation.

Ranger turned to look at me.

Joe told me, and I quote, "Police stuff."

Why is it that when you have a sure thing, nobody's around to take the bet?

Joe had started to walk towards me. He got way too close, invading my personal space. I wanted to take a step back, so badly that I forced myself not to. I just kept that smile plastered on my face and hoped it would be over soon.

"So, Stephanie," he spat at me. "Rambo gets back and you pull the damsel in distress routine? You go running to him for help the minute you know he's available? What do you think he's gonna do? Fall in love with you while cleaning up the trail of destruction you leave in your wake? Or maybe you just want a quick fuck. Is that it Stephanie? Tell me. Please, I'd like to hear."

I took a deep, cleansing breath. At least, I hoped it was. Really, I didn't know the difference between a regular deep breath and a cleansing one. But I deserved points for trying.

"I don't believe I have to explain myself to you, Morelli. Now if you'll excuse me…"

I was cut off by Joe grabbing my arm. I had to squelch my panic at being trapped and force myself to remain still and keep that smile in place so I wouldn't deck him.

"Detective Morelli, please release my arm." I'd been hoping that reminding Joe that he was a police officer would get him to let me go, but it backfired. If anything, he tightened his grip. My arm would be bruised by morning.

"Stephanie, Ranger's trouble. You need to stay away from him."

"Ranger hasn't given me trouble yet. I need to stay away from the people who hurt me." I glanced pointedly at my arm. Morelli let go of my arm in a fraction of a second and practically stumbled in his hurry to get away from me. He'd gone so white that a ghost had more color. Personally, I thought that he was overreacting, but maybe it was just me.

"Shit," he whispered. "Shit." And he started to walk away. I stared after him and watched as he stopped, shook his head, and turned around. When he came back, he looked like his dog had just died.

"Please, Stephanie, will you come over tomorrow for lunch? I'll order Pino's and get the beer." I was most definitely confused, but the look on his face – I still cared for Joe enough that if something as simple as having lunch would get that look off his face, I'd do it, and happily.

"Sure, Joe. Your place?"

"Yeah." He was speaking very softly. "Thanks, Stephanie. Thanks." And he walked back into the station, head down, hands shoved in his pockets.

I watched until he made it in the door, now more worried about him than angry at him. I turned back to the car where Ranger was still standing, an impassive look on his face. Shouldn't there be a limit to the number of things I have to deal with in a day?

"Don't you think that you paid a little much for information you could have gotten from standing up and looking around?" Swear to God, those were the first words out of his mouth. It took me a moment to switch gears, but only a moment. He was referring to my paying Bruce.

"Who said that's what I was paying for?" I asked him.

"Those must have been damn good drinks, then. And what were you thinking? Drinking on the job." Ranger sounded completely disgusted. Ranger had always been supportive, he'd never assumed but waited to hear what I had to say. That he would have so little faith now – I felt nauseous. The pain in my chest flared to life, like a knife had been twisted in my heart. I cut it off, shoving the hurt deep inside where I couldn't feel it anymore.

Ranger was obviously waiting for me to explain. I hoped he wasn't holding his breath; I hate it when people pass out in my car.

"Get in," I told him. He raised an eyebrow. "Or not. I'm leaving." I got in and waited for a minute to see what he would do. He got in. Imagine that – it was like maybe he didn't want to be stranded at the police station. Not that I could blame him. Thanks to Lula I knew first hand how much it sucked. She and I had worked on her police-phobia, and she was doing a lot better now. Most of the time.

"Should I drop you off at your car or somewhere else," I asked. I was hoping he would get the hint and leave me be for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Come to think of it, I'd probably put Shannon's file in with the White brothers, and he'd probably read it.

"What about the other skip?" Ranger didn't sound too happy.

"What about him?"

"You're not planning on going after him without backup, right? Especially not after you've had a couple drinks." Definitely not a happy voice.

I took a minute to debate the merits of beating my head against the steering wheel before answering him. Finally I told myself to just suck it up and deal with it.

"Thank you for all of your help tonight, Ranger, but I'm sure you have much more important things to do than babysit me." I'd almost choked on that last part – he wasn't babysitting me. Hell, he wasn't even being too helpful, but I'd managed to say it, and even forced my face into a facsimile of a smile – though I'm not sure that I wasn't clenching my teeth by the end.

"Trying to get rid of me babe?" Ranger cocked an eyebrow at me.

Yes, yes I am, I thought to myself.

"No, Ranger," I told him in a tired voice. "But I'm not inebriated, and I don't need help with this guy. Thank you, though." I added that last part for the sake of politeness.

"You had two drinks, Stephanie. And I know you. You're a lightweight when it comes to alcohol."

"There wasn't anything in them," I told him. I was just too tired to argue anymore. I wanted to tell him that it was none of his business, and that he could fuck off. I wanted to tell him that if he didn't trust my judgment about my level of drunkenness, then he could just leave. I wanted to tell him that if he didn't trust me to get the job done, then he shouldn't be here. But I was too tired. His lack of faith in me cut more than I wanted it too, and hurt more than it should have.

"There wasn't anything in them?" He was almost confused now.

"No, it was just Coke." That shut him up for a minute. I shut my eyes and huddled protectively over the steering wheel. Fuck it, I just wanted to go home and curl into a ball. No, what I wanted was someone there to hold me and make it all ok, but that wasn't going to happen, so I'd settle for my bed and a carton of ice cream.

"Even so," Ranger had gotten his wind back. "Do you know who this guy is? He's one of the biggest distributors in Trenton, and you say you don't need help with him?" I tried. I really, really tried to push past the tiredness and the hurt, and turn it into anger, indignation, anything. That just wasn't happening. I didn't have it in me to fight with him anymore tonight. Not after what had happened earlier in my apartment, not after Joe.

Truth be told, the skip – Shannon Lawrence, aka Cannon – was a close friend of mine. I'd met him when he'd skipped court and I got assigned his file. Then he'd helped me out of a jam – and by that I mean he saved my life. Now he was one of my best friends, and I was pretty sure the sentiment was mutual.

I started the car and drove out of the parking lot. Ranger eventually got a clue and stopped ragging me about where we were going and what I was thinking going after the skip on my own. I pulled to a stop next to Ranger's Mercedes.

"Get out," I told him. I didn't have it in me to do social pleasantries.

He was saying something to me, I could hear his voice, but I wasn't paying any attention. I was just staring out the windshield, unfocused.

"Get out," I told him again. I'm pretty sure I interrupted something he was saying, but I wasn't in the mood to listen to a lecture or play nice with others.

"God dammit, Stephanie!" He sounded pretty upset. I turned to look at him. Yep, he even looked mad. Did I care? Not even a little.

"Get out." It was the last time I was going to tell him nicely. Ok, so I hadn't been all that nice. Whatever.

"I don't like people giving me orders." I was sure he'd break a tooth, his jaw was clenched so tightly.

"Do you think you're the only one? Nobody likes someone telling them what to do. It doesn't stop you from ordering me around. Now get out."

Thank God, this time he listened.


	3. Here and Now 3

**Seven Up**

**Part One – Here and Now**

**

* * *

****Three**

* * *

He was following me. I knew he was following me. Once Ranger had gotten out of my car, I'd taken off. It had taken me three blocks to spot him behind me. If I'd had the energy to be anything more than apathetic, upset wouldn't even begin to describe my reaction. As it was, I was just tired. So I kept driving, ignoring my tail. Of course, that didn't stop me from making a few U-turns and meandering around a bit, but I wound up just going back to my apartment. That hadn't been my original plan, but with Ranger following me, it was pretty much all I could do.

I parked and took the stairs up to my apartment. First thing I did was look out the window to see what Ranger was doing. The Mercedes was sitting next to the Buick. I wasn't really all that surprised when there was a knock on the door. That didn't mean I was going to open it to him.

I listened as Ranger picked the lock and opened the door. I was still looking out of the window, hugging myself, when he walked up to me, coming so close I could feel the heat coming off his body. He hesitated and I could feel him tense before he put his arms around my waist and took that last step, closing the gap between us. I found myself relaxing against him. It felt nice, and safe, and happy. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy it, because I knew something would come along and break the spell that had woven around us.

"I'm sorry, babe," Ranger said softly into my ear.

I closed my eyes and stifled a sigh.

"Ranger," I told him. "Don't worry about it. You made logical assumptions and what you said wasn't out of line. You have nothing to apologize for."

He held me a little tighter. "I'm sorry for assuming," he said quietly.

"Well," I paused. "Thank you." He would never know how much that meant to me. That he realized he'd made assumptions, and that they were wrong, and then apologized for it. That he not only wanted to apologize, but was insisting on it.

"So am I forgiven?" he asked, laying his chin on top of my head.

"Nothing to forgive Ranger."

"Please, Stephanie?" he whispered.

"Of course." I was being drawn into the feel of his arms around me, encircling me, holding me. Ranger gave me a feeling of safety – whether it was his bulk and strength or just him I didn't know, but the feeling was there.

"You still working for me?" he asked quietly. I was surprised he still wanted me to work for him.

"You still want me too?"

Ranger sighed, like he didn't know what to do. "Yeah, so long as you're willing."

"Are you going to freak out on me again?" I asked. "If we're going to work together, I need to know that you're going to trust me, and I need to be able to trust that you'll get my back."

"Always, babe. Always."

Ranger gave me a quick squeeze before letting go and turning me to face him.

"Now can I make you that dinner I promised and explain the job to you?"

I just nodded. It was easier that way.

Dinner turned out to be pretty good. Salad, of course, and some sort of chicken dish that was excellent but probably disgustingly healthy. I didn't ask and he didn't tell. He even made a really good chocolate cake, but I saw him cheat on that, using applesauce instead of oil. Now where's the fun in that? Not nearly as much fat to burn off.

When we were done cleaning up from dinner, I asked about the job.

"Couldn't bring a file here for you. You'll get it on the plane there," he told me.

That made me a little upset. Not that he didn't want to bring sensitive information to an unsecured location, but because he'd given me a false pretense for staying here. Before I could say anything, he took my hand and led me into the living room and over to the couch. Sitting down, he pulled me to sit in his lap with his arms around me. I froze, unable to protest, then I struggled to get away, but it only resulted in his holding me tighter.

"Relax, babe," he whispered in my ear. "It's alright."

I immediately stopped struggling, forcing myself to be still.

"What happened to you, babe? What made you change so much?"

"Nothing."

"Something happened, Stephanie. Tell me what."

"No, nothing happened." I could hear myself sounding more and more panicked.

"Let me help you." Ranger's voice was still soft and low.

My voice, on the other hand, was getting steadily louder, a direct relationship to how angry I was getting. I tried to get up again but Ranger was still holding me.

"Dammit, Ranger, it's none of your business."

"I know something happened. You wouldn't have changed so much if it hadn't. Now tell me." Ranger wasn't so calm anymore.

I continued my efforts to get out of his grip and off of his lap. I was still angry, but I was scared, too. Scared that he would find out my secret, and I was fighting off the panic of being held in place and unable to get out. Each had its own reactions, none of which I wanted to have much less show, which made me even more angry, which made me less in control of my reactions, and on and on it went in a nice, big, circle of hell.

"Why won't you let me hold you? You know I won't hurt you, babe." He was back to his soothing voice.

"You're not holding me, Ranger, you're trapping me and not letting me move." I felt him tense, then relax, and I stopped my efforts.

"Ask me, Stephanie. Ask me to let you go." Obviously he thought I wouldn't. He thought wrong.

"Let me go Ranger."

When I got up, I turned to look at him. His eyes were closed, and his hands were resting on his thighs. He looked like he was holding himself very rigidly. Opening his eyes, Ranger looked straight at me.

"Let me in, babe. Don't keep me out." His eyes were pleading with me.

"Six months ago, you were in so far I couldn't have gotten you out with a crowbar. You let yourself out and slammed the door behind you. Now unless you had actually planned on talking about the job, I think you should leave."

Ranger sighed audibly.

"Sit back down, babe."

Yeah, right, I thought.

"I won't touch you," he told me stiffly.

Gingerly, I moved to the other side of the couch and sat down on the edge.

"I had planned to talk about the job. I just wanted to talk about the other first," he said. "But I can see that that's not going to happen."

I silently agreed with his assessment of the situation.

"Job?" I asked. He nodded.

"Can't say much here, but I can give you the basics. Place in Vegas has a problem. Evidence points to somebody working there. We need to find out who it is, and get them out of there."

"What's the problem?" I'd noticed he hadn't specified.

"Drugs and disappearances."

"Disappearances?" I asked. He just nodded. I'd heard him the first time. I'd asked because I wanted to know more about them.

"And?" I prompted.

"And what, babe." Belligerence at its best.

"Are they ever found? Do they just disappear off the face of the earth? What?" If he was being so tight-lipped about it, I knew it had to be bad.

"They're found," he said.

I gave him the look, the one every burg girl learns from their mother.

"It's not pretty, babe."

"I'd kind of figured that one out," I told him. "Don't you think I have a right to know what's going on in the case?"

His voice went flat, and he told me. "A week after they go missing, they're found dead. They've been raped and sodomized and have cuts all over their bodies. They've been tortured, and slowly strangled."

I felt the blood drain from my face. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be. He'd been in jail, locked up, out of commission.

He moved towards me and I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. I sprung up from my perch on the edge of the couch. Reaction. If I'd been able to make a conscious decision, I would have made myself stay put. This just gave him more reason to interrogate me, and I didn't want him to ask me anything else about what had happened. I was afraid that if he kept on with it, he would wear me down so that all of my walls would be thinned to the breaking point and I would let something out that I didn't want out. That I couldn't let out, because once something's out, it can never be put back.

I was backing away from him, trying to get some space between us, but he was up off the couch and matching me step for step. Eventually the inevitable happened and I hit a wall. That didn't stop Ranger. He got right up in my face, one hand against the wall to the right of my head and the other on my waist.

"You're crowding me."

"Is that a problem?" he asked. Is that a problem? Well, duh it's a problem. If it wasn't I wouldn't have said anything.

"Yes." I told him as I grit my teeth and looked at a point six inches to the left of his face.

Ranger slowly moved his hand from my waist to put it under my chin, lifting my face to meet his gaze, and took a step closer.

"Why? Why is it such a problem that I'm close to you? Why don't you like me touching you anymore?" He asked me, voice soft and smooth.

I plastered a smile on my face.

"The job, Ranger. Focus on the job."

"I am." Ranger voice had done a complete turn about. It was harsh and severe, without a hint of softness in it. "We're going in together, our covers will succeed or fail based on our reactions to each other. If you go rigid or freeze up every time I touch you, they'll know something's not right. Our covers are blown and we wind up dead, so I'd say we're still very much talking about the job."

"And on the job, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. There won't be anything out of place in our interactions. But last I checked, we were still in my apartment, and that means that we're not working, which means that my actions won't affect our life expectancies." Again, I'd reacted without being able to think about it. I was trying to show my professionalism, and keep my voice steady and even. Instead, I'd subconsciously mimicked Ranger and his tone of voice.

Ranger sighed and pulled me to him so that our bodies were one continuous line. He moved his arms around my waist, and rested his head against mine. I didn't know what to do. I felt awkward, like I was back in third grade and Danny Manicioni was trying to give me my first kiss. I gently moved my hands to his shoulders, unsure of what was going on – he kept switching back and forth between polar opposites so quickly that I didn't know which way was up or what I was supposed to do or how I was supposed to react.

"Uh, Ranger?" I asked.

"Shh," he whispered. "Just let it be for now."

And I did. I let myself relax and be held and comforted, and it was enough.

A while later, when we were both ready to break the peaceful reverie we'd fallen into, I brought up the job again.

"What's my part in all of this?"

"Half of a honeymooning couple," he said. I had a funny feeling that the other half was holding me.

"How big is this?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow at that. Like I couldn't ask intelligent questions?

"In terms of?" he asked me.

"People involved on our end, people involved with the problem, that sort of thing."

"Big," he said. Like "big" was any sort of quantifier. Men.

"Ooo-kay. So I'm guessing you won't answer if I ask how legal it is." I said.

He just looked at me. I guessed right.

"Does that mean you want out?" he asked.

I was surprised, but when I thought about it, I shouldn't have been. He still remembered me from back in the day I was worried about his redecorating jobs.

"No. No, I'm still in. I'm _definitely_ still in." If it was him, if the man responsible for the disappearances was who I though it was, then there was no way I could walk away from this job. If he was out there, doing this to other women, I didn't really have a choice. No way was he getting away from me this time.

It was just over half an hour later when I watched Ranger's Mercedes roll out of the parking lot. We'd spent most of the time standing there, holding each other, while we discussed the rest of the minor details. It was wrong, and I knew it. I shouldn't have let him touch me at all, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't pull away.

When he was gone, I went out to Big Blue and made my way down to Stark Street to go see Shannon. That had been my plan all along, before I realized that I was going to have a visitor. Now that Ranger wasn't following me anymore, I could go. It wasn't that I didn't want Ranger to see what I was doing. No, I really didn't care about that at all. It was more for Shannon's protection. He trusted me, and I didn't want to bring any potentially dangerous situations to him if I could help it.

Finding a space near Shannon's corner wasn't hard. Especially when he saw me and told some guy to move it or lose it. Literally. I was about to get out when I looked across the street. It was the building I noticed first – high security from the looks of it. Two armed guards at the doors, posing as doormen, cameras mounted in various places to monitor the streets, all sorts of stuff. Then all of a sudden, Blackwell walked out of the building. He looked around, taking in the street. I was paralyzed with fear, a million questions flitting around my brain – how did he find me so quickly – how did he get to Trenton so fast – why couldn't he just leave me the fuck alone. I was still staring in that direction, debating the merits of cold blooded murder when a black Mercedes pulled up next to me, blocking my line of sight. When I jumped out and looked past it, he was gone. The son of a bitch had vanished. My only saving grace was that I was pretty sure he hadn't seen me.

I shifted my attention to the Mercedes and its driver, Ranger. The bastard.

"Why the hell have you been following me," I asked him.

"What are you doing down here." Apparently, Ranger had deemed my question not worthy of an answer.

"Go away, Ranger." I was too tired to deal with this shit.

I turned away from him, moving towards Shannon. My progress was halted when Ranger grabbed me and spun me back around. My gun was out and against his temple before I even had a chance to think. Stark had gone silent. They say that nobody on Stark ever sees anything, but that isn't true. They see things on this street. Things they never, ever talk about if they want to live to see old age.

"Let me go, Ranger." I was in no mood to play around. He made no move to release my arm. "I warned you once about manhandling me." If anything, his grip tightened. "Let me go now, Ranger, or we're going to have serious issues."

"Issues?" he asked.

"Last chance," I told him, voice firm. I cocked the gun, not really necessary, but it made for a good effect. He still wasn't making any effort to move.

"Don't make me do this, Ranger. Please don't make me." It was a whispered plea, one so soft that Ranger must be able to read lips to have understood me. I sent a silent thank-you to God when Ranger started to back away.

"You don't wanna pull that shit again Stephanie." Ranger's eyes had gone cold. That was fine. It meant that at least he was being rational. I could deal with a rational Ranger.

"Pull 'that shit'? I didn't pull anything. I didn't start anything. I only offered to finish it." OK, so I've gotten pretty good at talking big. Luckily, I don't often have to back it up. I stepped back up to him so that we were nose to nose.

"As you noticed earlier, things have changed. If you were smart, you'd go home and call in your weasels to find out how much."

Ranger raised an incredulous eyebrow at me. "You really expect me to believe this?"

"Then don't, Ranger. Now I'm gonna go. You should, too." Couldn't the man take a hint? Jeeze, and I thought I was dense sometimes.

"Come on, babe, let's get outta here. We'll go talk. I'll help you bring him in tomorrow." From angry to soothing in 1.2 seconds flat.

"Ranger, go away. I'm not leaving. We're not talking. I don't need help bringing 'him' in." He didn't stop me when I turned and walked away. He didn't stop me when I walked to Shannon. He didn't stop me when I walked into Shannon's waiting arms. I didn't turn around when I heard a door slam and a car peel away. I just buried my head in Shannon's chest and held on for dear life.

When I finally let go, I was pretty sure Shannon had a broken rib or two, but I don't think he minded. He took my hand and we walked away from the street, melting into the shadows of the allies. Soon, we were at his apartment. It was pretty amazing. It looked just like any other abandoned warehouse in the area – half of the windows were boarded, the first eight feet of walls were all tagged by random kids, and the front door was chained and padlocked. That was the outside.

Inside was a completely different story. Getting there was…interesting. Shannon is a little paranoid about his security, but not without cause. You know what they say, even paranoid people have enemies. That was more than a little true in Shannon's case. Hence the security. Yeah, it was a pain in the ass, but I'd rather go through it than wind up with a dead friend. To get inside, you had to go to a building a block away. Go inside the building, down to the parking garage. There's a little elevator, that you need a key card to get into and activate. That goes down another level, to a passage that leads you to the basement of Shannon's house. To get in from the passage, you need to go up another elevator, which needs another keycard. Then to get into the actual house, you need yet another keycard. Or maybe he uses the same card for all three. He puts it away each time. But there is no other way to get in. Underneath the ragtag warehouse façade is reinforced steel – no windows, no doors, no nothing. I'm sure he has an escape plan, or something, but I haven't asked. I respect his need to take precautions.

I'd been here so many times, I didn't even bat an eye when we went through the whole ordeal. Or maybe it was the fact that I was in something akin to shock. Probably an elephant could have tap danced down the street and I wouldn't have blinked. Then again, I'm sure my eyes would have gotten dry at some point.

When we were inside, Shannon sat me down on his couch. I love his couch. It's a nice butter-soft leather couch. The whole inside of his house is opulently furnished. The only thing I would have changed is the whole no-window thing. But then again, maybe I wouldn't have. The house gives you the feel of a warm, protected cocoon. Whenever I'm inside, I feel so safe. He started the fire and went off to get something. I was staring into the flames when he came back with a big, down comforter. Scooping me up, he wrapped the comforter around me and settled down into the couch, holding me tight. For about a minute I thought about the insanity of it all. Here it was, the middle of August, and we were sitting in front of a fire wrapped in a down comforter. Climate control at its best. At some point during the night I fell asleep, safe in his arms.

When I woke up sometime later I realized that Shannon had moved us to his bedroom, and had changed me into one of his shirts. I didn't really mind; once you've worn Kevlar for hours at a time, you'll understand. Shannon must have sensed that I woke up, because he immediately started rubbing my back. I shut my eyes and consciously tried to relax. It wasn't too hard. It was only a matter of minutes before I fell back asleep.

The next morning was wonderful. The day after I've slept is always one that I look forward to. Shannon is always telling me that I'm welcome to stay with him as often as I'd like, but I try not to take advantage. Besides, he's entitled to have a social life, too, and how weird would it be if he wanted to bring a woman home with him, and I came over whining for a hug? Most of the time, I just suffice with vegging out in front of the t.v.. It's not that bad, really. And maybe, if I keep telling myself that, I'll start believing it.

When I woke up, it was nearly ten a.m.. Shannon was still in bed with me; he was so wonderful. Here I was, a psychologically disturbed woman who'd practically leeched onto him, and not only does he let me into his home and let me sleep in his bed, he stays with me until I wake up on my own so that I can sleep. He's such an amazing friend, I really don't know what I'd do without him. If he hadn't been there for me, I wouldn't be alive today.

"You up?" He asked me. He must have felt me wake up.

"Yeah, I guess." If I sounded a little reluctant about it, it's because I was. I did not want to get out of the nice, safe, warm bed, and face the real world. But I knew I had to.

I sat up and Shannon got out of bed. After a minute I heard the shower going, so I got up and went downstairs to start the coffee. Just as it finished brewing, Shannon stepped into the kitchen. He was wearing sweat pants, and the towel from his shower was hanging around his shoulders. It was times like this, when the white towel brilliantly showed off his sculpted chest, that reminded me what a gorgeous black man he is. He grinned at me, having followed my gaze to his six-pack and my train of thought to…well, his six-pack.

He tossed the towel in my face before swatting at me to get in the shower. When I was done, Shannon had breakfast on the table. There are two people who don't let me get away with picking at my food. One's my mother. The other is Shannon. So I sat down and stuffed myself with eggs and bacon and pancakes and toast. By the time we were finished, I was so full I felt like I was going to be sick.

"So I'm guessing you heard," Shannon said.

"That Blackwell broke out? Yeah."

Shannon looked at me, and I knew he was going to tell me something I wasn't going to like.

"That's all you know?" he asked skeptically. "How'd you find out?"

After giving me a look that told me without words that I should have known better than to trust Morelli to tell me everything, he told me about the note.

"He left a note, Steph."

"A note."

"It said, 'I'm coming, Stephanie.'"

"Oh. Oh, shit," I said while I sternly told myself that I was _not_ going to hyperventilate.

"Yeah." Shannon was sitting back in his chair giving me an appraising look. He was seeing how I would handle it. If I _could _handle it, if I'd be ok. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Ok," I said. "Ok." I could handle it. I had to.

"Thanks for telling me," I said. He gave me a big smile, lots of teeth, like a proud papa bear.

"Anytime, you know that."

"Yeah," I said. "I do. Now let's get this rescheduling over with." I whipped out the cell phone to call Vinnie.

"Whaddya want." My, my, my. Wasn't Vinnie in a good mood. One of his animal play mates must have croaked, though I hadn't heard about any frogs lately…

"And a good morning to you, too, Vincent," I told him in my most chipper voice.

"Whaddya want."

"Just to let you know that one of your bondees needs to be bailed out again." I told him. He grunted at me, and that was that. He was all business again. Anything that had to do with him making money, and he'd cut out all the jabbering and bitching. It was something that I made a point to remember. He made plans to meet us down at the station, and Shannon and I packed up and left for my car.

It was only when we'd almost reached the car that I noticed Ranger standing there, leaning against my car. From the look of it, he'd been there all night, waiting for me to come back. Served him right; I'd told him to go away. But a part of me still hurt at the look of him – tired, ten hours past a five 'o' clock shadow, and with a look on his face that might have been pain or maybe jealousy if it had been there at all. I walked right up to him, laying a hand on the side of his face, feeling the scruffiness of his beard against my palm. He turned into it for a moment, pressing his lips into my hand before I took a step closer and moved my hand back to his cheek.

"Where've you been all night, babe?" His voice was a notch deeper, out of exhaustion rather than passion, and a part of me ached at the thought of him standing outside, against my car, waiting for me all night long. Another part of me was upset that he'd been staying here when I'd explicitly told him to go away. Guess he doesn't listen any better than I do.

"Why have you been waiting for me all night?" It was a fairly neutral question, and I'd let his answer determine what I was going to do, how I was going to react. That I was well rested bode well for him – I was always calm and charitable when I'd managed to sleep without nightmares. That didn't mean that I wouldn't bitch at him, it just meant that it would take more provocation than normal.

"Didn't know it would be all night," he said. I smiled at him.

"You should have gone home, gotten some rest," I told him, stroking my thumb back and forth over his cheek. "You look tired."

He grunted. I took my hand from Ranger's cheek and brushed his hair back behind his ear.

"I'm taking Shannon in, then I need to drop him off back here before I meet Morelli for lunch. You should go home and get some sleep, Ranger. Call me later?" I asked. Dealing with Shannon and Morelli wasn't all I had to do today. I also had to bring in the other three skips I'd been assigned, have dinner with my mother, and make sure that the organization would run smoothly while I was gone. But after lunch, my schedule was flexible with regards to Ranger. I reached up and brushed the hair out of his eyes. He shut his eyes and put his hand over mine, before bringing my fingers to his lips and kissing them like you see in the old movies. It was a courtly gesture, one that if I would have thought to look odd coming from Ranger. Instead it looked perfectly natural. Ranger released my hand and walked toward his car.

I watched him walk away, then turned to Shannon.

"Shall we?" I asked. We got into Big Blue and drove to the station. As soon as we were in the car, Shannon started in on me.

"Nothing, huh?" he asked. "Just work. Just a job. I see more, Steph. A lot more, that I don't think you wanna think about. But that's not going to make it go away."

"Whatever, Shannon. Now let's drop it."

"Unh-unh. No way. Steph and Ranger sittin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes…"

I turned to him with a look on my face that must have been priceless, because he burst into laughter at the first glance. Lucky for me, we got to the station before he got his breath back.

It all went according to plan. The guys at the station were used to my bringing in Shannon now. The first time I'd brought him in, they'd been a little freaked out. Might have been the whole no handcuffs thing, but I didn't like handcuffing my friends, so I didn't cuff Shannon. Well, ok, that first time, it was because I was a little stressed out, and though Shannon scared the shit out of me, he seemed willing to come to the station. I hadn't wanted to give him a reason to get upset with me, hence we went sans the cuffs. Later, it was because he was my friend.

When we got to the station, Vinnie was waiting there to bail Shannon out. He didn't even need to see the inside of a jail cell. Honestly, I didn't know how I felt about Shannon dealing drugs. I knew that I liked Shannon. I knew that he was one of my best friends. I knew that I didn't want to mess that up. So I kind of ignored his source of income. And besides, it's not like he forced anybody to buy the drugs. He never pressured people into becoming addicts, and he will _not_ go near kids. Or let anybody who works for him sell to kids. Once they're over the age of consent, though, they're fair game. And I found I kind of agreed with his assessment of the situation. After all, when you hit eighteen, you're legally an adult and allowed to make your own decisions. So why shouldn't I be friends with someone who's just making use of the free enterprise system? Weird, I know, but when has my life been normal?

Vinnie made his way back to the cars with us, muttering about how Shannon had better get to his court date on time. Shannon gave him a look that had Vinnie running off to his car with his tail between his legs.

"Wanna grab some coffee?" I asked Shannon when we were back in the car. "Danielle's gonna meet me."

"Sure," he said.

"I need to go over some things with you before I leave. I'm not sure that SO1 will be alright with me gone."

"You shouldn't worry, Angel. I know it's your baby, and the first time away is hard, but it'll be ok. There's Danielle me to take care of everything, and you're only a phone call away if something big happens."

By that time, we'd gotten to the coffee shop and had to order. The sixteen-year-old working the cash register looked down her long nose at us for ordering large coffees. When the person behind us ordered a double skinny iced mocha grande, I found out why. Sorry, but I'll stick to coffee. Grabbing a table, Danielle met us and we sat down to discuss the particulars.

SO is an organization that I'd started close to four months ago. It stands for Starting Over. After my…trouble, I'd been lucky. I'd had Shannon there to help me through it, and people who were willing to give me a safe place. Many, many women didn't have anywhere, and I'd wanted to give them one, give them a chance to start over, like I'd had. It had taken two months, every cent I could get my hands on, and more loans from more banks than I cared to think about, but I'd managed to buy a building on Sloane for just that purpose. It had, at one time, been a hotel, but with the changing times and the changing city, Sloane had turned into a very dangerous street. So the hotel had gone belly up, but it was perfect for my purpose.

Next had come renovating the place. I had been lucky that nobody had managed to get in and squat any of the rooms, but the place was still a disaster. Or it had been. When people heard about what I was doing, they'd laughed. That was alright with me, this place wasn't for those people. It was for the ones who were secretly hoping it would open soon. I'd had to hire a contractor to fix the few structural problems the place had had. He hadn't laughed. His daughter had been raped four years ago. He did the work at cost, and I got my first patron. Every month he and his wife sent a donation.

I was working there alone one night when I heard something behind me. Before I could turn around to see what was going on I'd been grabbed and forced to the floor. He'd produced a knife and threatened to kill me if I struggled. My hand was still by my side, where my gun was tucked into its holster. Before he could move, I'd shot him twice and shoved him off me, calling the police. The man was dead; he'd been a convicted rapist who'd just gotten out of jail that week. I was glad that it was only me he'd come after and not some innocent girl. It was an open and shut case, ruled self-defense.

Then the boys had found out what I was doing. One day I was in the middle of painting a bedroom when my cell phone rang. It was Tank, demanding that I go down to let them in. When I went down to see them, they had rollers, paint brushes, and ladders. And a state-of-the-art security system. They were SO's next patrons. With their help, I got three rooms finished in a week. It was a good thing, too, because I also got my first tenant.

Her husband had put her in the hospital with a broken arm, two broken ribs, and more bruising than I'd thought possible. Her name was Daniella. She'd almost bled to death internally, and decided that enough was enough, that it was time for her to put an end to it. To start over. So she came to me. I put her in a room and told her that she would be safe. That I wouldn't let anyone hurt her, and she believed me. The next morning I showed her the contract that I'd had a lawyer draw up, outlining the rules that were involved with living here, and the consequences of breaking the rules. She signed immediately.

Soon after, two more women showed up. Lucy and Margaret. They signed, too. Really, the rules were simple. So long as you live here, there will be no drugs. Smoking only in a corner of the courtyard. No drunkenness. If you have an addiction, we'll send you to a clinic for help. No contact whatsoever with your abusive spouse or boyfriend or pimp. And you have to help around the place, whether it be cooking or cleaning or painting or holding another woman's hand, you had to help to the extent that you could. If you work, for the duration of your stay you have to contribute a percentage of your income on a scale not unlike the tax system

Lula heard about it and started spending her Saturdays helping out. From there, it just kept growing. We now had a staff of three, two psychologists for the women, and an admin to run everything. Despite donations and the possibility of soon getting state and federal dollars, the majority of SO's operating budget came from my pocket. And I couldn't bring in skips and deal with all the little things that went into making the place run at the same time, so I'd hired Daniella. She was perfect for it. Before she'd gotten married, she'd been a hospital administrator, which made her precisely what we needed. I couldn't have gotten a better qualified or more dedicated person to run it. Soon, we were going to have a doctor on the staff part-time, too, as well as a night security guard, and maybe a lawyer. Hospitals in the surrounding areas were starting to refer women to us. The old hotel was almost back to its former glory, and we were starting to gain some attention from national organizations.

But now I had to leave, and wouldn't be able to make sure that everything would be alright while I wasn't here. Which was why I was sitting down with Shannon, making sure he'd be able to help out. Shannon was an anonymous patron, but he helped just as much by keeping everyone away from the hotel. Nobody was allowed to come near us and try to push to any of the tenants, and nobody was to go near any of the women staying there if their intentions were anything but pure. Somebody on his payroll had tried it once. He'd been in the hospital for just less than two weeks. Nobody tried again.

For the most part, SO was left alone. But occasionally somebody would be stupid enough to try something. That was really what I was worried about. I was the one to take care of it when the alarm went off, but with me gone, I wouldn't be able to. I'd already alerted the security company that I would be out of town and that the contact person would be Shannon. Daniella was telling me that they could handle things. Shannon was assuring me that he could take care of it. I trusted them, so I would leave it I their capable hands and trust them enough not to worry. Too much, at least.

Finished with our coffee we left the little shop and went our separate ways, Shannon having called one of his minions to come and get him. I gave them both a quick hug and a peck on the cheek and told them goodbye and thank you, before getting in my car and starting on the long list of things I had to do before I could leave.

1. "SO," Stephanie's fictional organization, is said as a word, not as the letters. When you say it, it's like NOW not like the FMF.


	4. Here and Now 4

**Seven Up **

**Part One – Here and Now**

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****Four**

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First on my list of things to do was to pick up the rest of the skips Vinnie had given me. They weren't worth much, but they wouldn't take me long either. I had an hour and a half before meeting Morelli for lunch and I estimated that it was just enough time to get these losers. I was right. When I brought the last one into the station, the desk sergeant had changed, and the new guy was manning the desk. He thought he would be a big man and give me a hard time while getting the receipt processed.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing this for?" he sneered. "Shouldn't you be at home cleaning something? Leave this to the big boys, darlin', before you get yourself hurt." I rolled my eyes.

"Just get me the receipt, Branskovic."

"Come on, baby. You don't wanna be doing this. Why don't you and me go for lunch and I'll show you some of my hand-to-hand technique." He was grinning lecherously at me. Bastard.

"You're married," I told him with flat eyes. "You have a kid that's a year old and another on the way. Even if you didn't, I wouldn't be interested. I don't have any compassion for adulterers and I've been doing this for a lot longer than you've been a cop. I know more ways to make you squeal in pain than you'll ever guess and I can do it all without leaving a mark. Now hand over the receipt and take the skip back to lock-up."

I'd seen a brief flash of fear cross his face before the anger took over. I knew the background on all the Trenton police. It was a habit of mine to know as much as I could about the people I'd be dealing with. But I'd scared the little bastard, and now he was going to take it out on me. And he didn't look like the most stable person. I sighed.

"I don't think so," he said. "I think instead I'll let the skip go and take you back to lock-up. Maybe we'll have our fun their, instead." He took the cuffs off the skip and told him to scram. The skip looked to me, unsure of what to do and much more afraid of what I could do to him than what this excuse for a cop could. I fixed the skip with a look meant to reinforce that feeling.

"You stay right there. Understood?" I ordered the skip. He nodded frantically, sitting right back down on the bench. I didn't have time for this shit.

"Before you try something this incredibly stupid," I told Branskovic, "you may want to check out who you're dealing with. Now I have an appointment in fifteen minutes, so process the skip and give me the receipt."

"I don't think so, darlin'," he sneered. Great. "You're gonna be late for your hair appointment. Why don't we see how you are after coolin' your heels in a cage for a few hours, huh?"

"Am I under arrest?" I asked him.

"Yep. Threatening a police officer," he said with a sick smile. "Now spread 'em. Need to pat you down. Make sure you don't have anything…dangerous." All I could do was sigh again. The charge wasn't strictly true, but it wasn't strictly false, either. I didn't want to make it worse by adding a resisting arrest charge to this thing, so I did as he said. He pushed me to the wall so that I was facing it with maybe two feet between me and the wall. My hands were slightly above me, supporting me as I leaned against it. My lawyer would straighten it all out as soon as I called him. Then he pushed the line just a little to far. Hell, he pushed the line over the cliff.

The bastard ran his hands all over the front of my breasts, getting a good handful and squeezing. He shoved himself up against my back so I could feel his erection through my jeans. I was almost paralyzed with shock. He was a police officer. An officer of the law. The police didn't do this sort of thing.

"We're gonna have fun," he said into my ear as he thrust his hips against me and drove a hand down my front, trying to force his way into my pants. "Lots and lots of fun, aren't we."

Almost paralyzed. And that had shaken the shock off of me. I spun left and used the momentum to put my elbow to his cheek and followed it by breaking his nose with my fist. Then I kicked down on the outside of his leg, aiming for his knee. He was lucky he'd been falling already or I'm pretty sure he would have had at least a dislocated knee, if not a broken bone. I grabbed my stun gun off of my utility belt and put him out before I cuffed him and made a few calls. Within three minutes the watch commander was there along with a few stragglers who'd seen him hurrying through the station and followed. Within five minutes the Chief of Police was there, too.

"Paul," I nodded to the Chief when he walked in. He nodded back and came over, assessing the situation. Tim, the Watch Commander was standing next to me, and he wasn't doing anything about the fact that one of the boys in blue was laying on the ground in cuffs, bruises already welling to his face.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked. I was calm, I was professional. I was probably even cold. I told him, not sparing any of the details. I didn't gloss over the verbal parry I'd made that had seemed to start this whole mess, and I didn't back down from what I'd done to him once he'd tried to force himself on me. Both the Chief and the Commander looked horrified. Branskovic's badge was suspended until the investigation was complete, and I got apologies from everyone.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," I told them. The Chief shut his eyes, envisioning a lawsuit and all of the trouble it would bring him.

"I'm not going to sue, Paul. But I want something," I told him. Both of them looked at me with guarded eyes.

"Don't worry," I scorned. "It's something you'll be willing to give. I want the patrol cars to run by SO every halfhour and make sure nothing looks out of place. I'm going to be out of town for the next month. While I'm gone, I want them to do it every twenty minutes. Take it or leave it."

They looked undecided. I graced them with a smile that wasn't meant to reassure.

"You should take it. It's completely legal. It's cheaper than a lawsuit and the expense will be much easier to spin."

"Fine," Paul finally spit. "Fine." I looked at him for a minute, wondering if he would have it out for me from then on. Having the Chief of Police pissed at you was generally a bad move. Especially when you sometimes skirted the line of the law.

"Paul," I said. "I wouldn't sue you either way. You need to know that before you agree. I'm pissed as hell that you hired this piece of shit and I want you to do this for SO. But him? He's nothing, and I got my piece of him already. I wouldn't bring down the department when so many of you are good cops. Now I need to know if you'll do it."

"It's on Sloane?" Tim confirmed. I nodded.

"Car goes by there about that often anyway," he said to the Chief. "We could tell them to be on the lookout for anything out of place." Paul nodded his head and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Done," he said.

"You should be glad it was just me," I said off handedly. "Anybody else would probably already have served you with papers. After all, this area of the station is on camera 24/7, so they wouldn't even need to make a case." They gave me a considering look, but I was paying more attention to Branskovic. He was waking up, and he wasn't waking up calmly. The man was absolutely livid. He came out of it struggling and yelling about how he was going to get me. Then he realized that he was cuffed. Then he realized who was standing next to me. If looks could kill, he would have killed me three times over.

Paul processed the skip himself, shaking his head over the fact that the guy was just sitting there on the bench, waiting to be remembered. I had really put the fear of god into the guy.

"Shut up," Tim bellowed to Branskovic. He'd been whining and yelling about me and the situation as a whole. He shut up, but he kept glaring at me.

"Bastard just transferred here," Tim sighed.

"I know," I said, face and voice still frozen over. Again, Tim and the Chief looked at me, like I was suddenly a circle when they'd expected a square.

"I really am sorry about this, Steph," Tim told me. Paul nodded his agreement.

"Fine," I told them.

"So where ya going, Steph?" Paul finally asked to break the silence while the paperwork was still being filled out.

"Business trip," was all I said. Then the receipt was ready and I grabbed it. "Now I gotta run. See you when I get back." I nodded to them before shifting my gaze to Branskovic and giving him a look that would have frozen flame. Then I left. I had to meet Morelli.

Back in my car I started to shake. Flashbacks of hands much more violent running over me. And pain. And pain. I shook, and I tried to get myself under control. I started the car and rolled out of the parking lot shoving memories back down. By the time I got to Morelli's I was almost back to normal.

"Hey, Steph," he called from the door. I greeted him as I got out of the car. Morelli held the door for me as I went inside, and I was a little unsure of how to act. I followed him into the kitchen, where the scent of the pizza in the oven wafted up to greet my nose.

"So, ah, you wanna beer or something?" Morelli asked. Not really, I thought.

"Sure," I said, savoring the flavorful aroma Morelli motioned for me to take a seat and got the beer out of the fridge and the pizza from the oven. It was awkward, as we sat there eating and not really saying anything. It was awkward like I'd never imagined it could be.

"So what's up, Joe," I finally said in an attempt to break the ice. All he did for a while was look at me. He stopped eating – didn't put down his slice of pizza, didn't swallow, just froze and looked at me. Then all of a sudden he slammed back his chair to get up and yank open the fridge. After a second of rummaging he emerged with a beer in his hand which was promptly opened and swallowed in seconds.

"Joe," I asked. "What's wrong? What's the matter?" I was confused. Joe was acting strangely, and I didn't know why or what to do about it.

"How's your arm?" he demanded abruptly. He grabbed my fingers and pushed up the sleeve to see if there were bruises.

"Shit," he muttered when he saw it. It wasn't big, but there were definite bruises from where his fingers had been; it was just the pressure points where the tips of the fingers had dug into flesh.

"It's okay, Morelli," I told him, "so long as you don't do again."

"Fucking shit," he said under his breath.

"This isn't what's wrong, is it?" I asked, even more unsure as to what was going on. "Why did you want to have lunch? Just spit it out."

"Just spit it out? Jesus," he replied. "Spit it out. Okay. Fine. Do you think I'm turning into my father?" He looked straight at me as he said it, and his face was contorted into an expression that I could only interpret as internal torture. This was really eating him up.

"Your father? Why would you think that?"

"Come on, Stephanie. I need to know," he practically begged. "You've known me forever. You've _lived_ with me. Tell me."

"You're nothing like your father, Joe. Has this been bothering you a lot lately?" I asked with a sudden flash of insight.

"Just tell me the truth, Steph. I know I was horrible to you, have been horrible to you, ever since I was FTA. Hell, ever since I met you. So don't try to sugarcoat it, just tell me."

"Yeah," I agreed. "You were pretty horrible to me. But I was pretty horrible to you, too. We were bad for each other, but that doesn't make you a drunken bum who abuses your wife and children."

"Just last night I hurt you. Your arm is bruised because I lost my temper, and you're telling me I won't abuse my wife?" he exclaimed.

"You didn't grab me to hurt me. That wasn't your intention. That makes a difference. If you lost your temper and smacked me, or kicked me, or purposely tried to hurt me, I'd be telling you different things right now. Instead, you grabbed me so I would pay attention, which you would do whether you'd lost your temper or not," I said. It was true. Joe was a very tactile person; he'd always touched me or held some part of me or leaned against me when he spoke to me. He was leaning in to listen to me, paying rapt attention with a look of agony on his face that, thankfully, was easing slightly. "What did happen because you lost it was that you didn't think about how tightly you were holding me. I didn't like it, and I don't want you to do it again, but I don't think that you're going to be a wife beater because of it. It's the first time in three years you've laid a hand on me that's bruised me. After all the things we've been through, I think it's safe to say that if you didn't hit me through any of that, you won't be slapping your wife around."

"God," he said as he slumped against his chair.

"You shouldn't let this eat at you, Joe," I told him. "But since you're thinking about it, and worrying about it, I think that that right there proves that you're not your father. He never would have thought twice about smacking some woman around."

He looked at me, digesting that for a few moments, before getting up and wandering out of the room. I figured he'd have to process all of that for a while, so while he was off I cleaned up the kitchen, washing the dishes and taking care of the leftover pizza. He came back in about twenty minutes later and sat down across from me.

"I want you to promise me two things," he said. "That you'll tell me if I ever start to fall into my father's habits, and that if I ever hit my wife or kids, you'll take them." I blinked, unsure what to say.

"I checked up on Starting Over. I haven't wanted to hear anything about you for the past few months, but I checked last night. I don't know how you managed to pull it off, but it's amazing, Stephanie. It's amazing. I want you to take them there. Promise me."

"If it'll make you feel better. But if I ever found out that you were doing anything close to that you know I'd come round and beat the crap out of you, right?" I said with a smile. He gave a quick laugh and a shaky smile.

"Good," he said. "Good." And that was pretty much the end of the visit. We sat and watched a few minutes of the game, and I left.

As I was driving away from Joe's, I thought again about what he'd said. It certainly wasn't what I'd been expecting. Though I don't know what I had been expecting. Putting the windows down to breathe in some of the cool spring air, I reaffirmed to myself that everything I'd told him was true. Joe is not his father, he's not a bad man. I, however, was not a good daughter. My eye was already twitching at the thought of seeing my mother.

Pulling up to the curb, I contemplated falling out of the car and breaking a bone to avoid the visit, but decided that probably I'd just scrape a knee and make the stay even worse. So I sucked it up and went in. Men have been given medals for less, I'm almost sure of it.

"Stephanie?" my mother called. "I want to see you in the kitchen." Great. I walked into the kitchen and leaned against the door frame.

"Can't stay long, Mom. Just wanted to stop by to let you know I'm heading out of town for a while on a job. I'll bring you back a souvenir."

My mother went on like I hadn't said a word. "What's this I hear about some fight at the police station? You know better than to fight with the nice police. And what about you having lunch with Joseph Morelli? Is that boy finally going to take you back after breaking his heart? I'll be happy when you've finally settled down with a nice husband and a few children. And you stop messing around with that nasty job of yours. And now this mess with those poor women from the ghetto? I can't imagine what you were thinking with all that nonsense."

"No, I bet you can't imagine," I stated, just as my father and grandmother walked into the kitchen arguing about the bathroom and the remote. Well, in for a penny, right? I'd taken enough over the past months. Hell, over the past years. She was derogatory, derisive, and demeaning to me, and I wasn't going to take it anymore. I didn't need her cake or her food or anything from her, so she could take this and shove it up her ass.

"Joe Morelli never meant that proposal. He said it to get rid of his mother and grandmother so he could fuck me, Ma. As soon as the door closed, he took it back. I don't give a rat's ass anymore if you believe me or not, but that's the truth. I had lunch with him because he's a friend, and we're not planning on being anything more than friends. Can you try to get it through your thick skull that that's what happened? I mean, Jesus, Ma, you take _anybody's _word over mine. What did I ever do to make you mistrust me so much? And furthermore, I don't want to settle down with a gaggle of kids biting my ankles. I'm not 'messing around with my job;' I'm damn good at it. And that nonsense, as you called it, is a not-for-profit organization to help abused women in New Jersey. It provides an important service to the women in the area, giving them a safe place to go if they ever feel that they need it. And if I ever hear you refer to it as nonsense ever again, I swear to god I'll spread it through out the city that Val was conceived out of wedlock."

Everyone stared at me in shock, unsure what to say or do.

"I'm leaving now. I'm going out of town on a job for a while. When we get back, we can discuss this further. Until then, goodbye," I said. I was turning to go when I heard my mother screeching at me.

"You – you heartless – you horrible child…"

"Don't," I warned, looking her right in the eye. Something in my face must have clued her in, because she stopped. I could swear I saw something like fear run across her features, but I didn't understand it. Why would my mother be afraid of me? Anger, now that I could understand from her, but not fear.

"We'll discuss this further when I get back from the job," I repeated. "And you missed the boat on the souvenirs." And with that, I walked out the door. By then it was late afternoon, early evening, and all I wanted was to go home and bury my head in the covers. I was upset about this situation with my mother, scared that Blackwell was loose, and emotionally drained from dealing with Branskovic, then Morelli, then my mother. Wouldn't it stop? Just give me a moment to catch my breath? Unfortunately, that wasn't in the cards for me just then.

As I got into my car my cell phone rang. The readout was a 911 from SO. Another emergency. My tires squealed as I pulled off the curb, all the while dialing Daniella. She answered immediately.

"Steph?" she asked frantically. I prayed she didn't lose it.

"I'm on my way now. What's wrong?"

"We got a new girl last night, only fourteen, so we had to call the police to let them know what was going on. Some dumb-ass at the station called the girl's parents, and now the father is here with a shotgun."

"My ETA is ten minutes. Is anyone hurt?" I asked, fearing the worst.

"No. We sealed off the lobby and I told everyone to go to the top floor conference room. I'm on my way there now to make sure everyone's accounted for," Daniella stated. She was calming down, didn't sound as panicked. That was good, the others would need her to be strong.

I let out a brief sigh of relief.

"Good job, Daniella. That's exactly right. Call me if someone's missing, and lock down the conference room until I call," I ordered.

"I will. Be careful," she said.

"Don't worry about me, take care of the others," I told her and hung up so I could call the police.

"Trenton, P.D., Branskovic." You've got to be fucking kidding me, I thought. They told me they were suspending his badge.

"There's an emergency at SO," I said. "Please put me through to the watch commander." There was a pause, and then he started to speak.

"This is that bitch from this morning, isn't it?" he asked. Great. "What's the matter? Somebody break a nail at that whorehouse everyone thinks is so great? I know better. I know you're just selling those sluts and trying to cut the pimp out of the picture. I…" I cut him off. I didn't have time to deal with him. I tried 911 next and told them that a man was in the lobby of SO with a shotgun, threatening damage if he didn't get his daughter back. She sympathized, but said that there was a fire at the mall and all units were over there trying to help people out and keep people from being trampled in a riot. She said nobody would be able to get out of there for the next forty-five minutes, but she'd send it out over the scanner. Perfect.

I was almost there, and I didn't have any options left. I called our security service.

"Tank?" I said when he answered. "I have a situation down at SO. I need backup."

"I just heard it over the scanner. We're on our way. Should be there in five minutes."

"Thanks," I said before I flipped the phone shut. I came careening to a stop in front of the hotel, throwing myself out of the car and kneeling next to it so I was protected by the car and the door. I took a minute to check my weapons and strap on a vest and some extras I had under the seat. I debated waiting on the RangeMan crew when my phone rang again. It was Daniella.

"Teresa's little boy is missing," she cried. "He's only six years old, and now he's…he's…oh, God, Stephanie…" Great. Now Daniella's hysterical, or nearly. I needed her to stay calm. She was in charge, and everybody looked to her for what to do. If she started to fall apart, everyone else would follow.

"Keep it together, Daniella," I said, voice harsh and commanding. "They need you. Keep Teresa and the others in that room. No matter what, do you understand? They need you to be in control right now. You can't fall apart. You'll have to wait until it's over to do that."

"You're right, you're right," she said. I could hear her sucking in deep breaths to try to calm herself down. "I'm sorry, I'll be okay. We'll be okay." I racked my brain for the boy's name.

"It's Marc, right?" I asked. She gave it the affirmative.

"Keep it together, Daniella," I warned one last time. "It'll be over soon." Yeah, I was ruthless with her, but I needed to be. If she couldn't stay together during an emergency, then I'd need to find somebody else to do the job. Just then, though, I wasn't thinking about replacements; I was in a zone where my whole focus was dealing with this situation. The callousness with which I'd treated Daniella had sprung from an aversion to the distraction her emotions had caused. I hung up and crawled to the side of the lobby entrance, peaking around the wall to see through the glass. There was, indeed, a man in there with a shotgun. With Marc. The man looked like he was yelling at Marc, and Marc was crying. I pulled my head back and called the 911 operator again.

"This is Stephanie Plum with SO again. I have new information; it's a hostage situation. The man has a little boy, name Marc Copastoni age six. I need the police here ASAP."

"I'll try, Ms. Plum," she said in a sincere voice. I didn't know if it was going to do any good. I looked back into the lobby and saw the man point his gun in Marc's direction, and decided I couldn't wait any longer. Oh so quietly and oh so gently I eased the front door open just wide enough for me to slip through. Neither of them noticed. Most of the room was lined with desk-like tables that had served as partitions for employees to work behind when it was a hotel. Then there were large planters spread decoratively throughout the room. I crept along the walls, behind these desks and plants, keeping out of sight. Finally, I made it to under the desk Marc was sitting on and waited until I heard the man pace away, ranting about how he had the right to do whatever he wanted with his daughter.

Then I moved. I sprang up, yanking Marc from the desk with a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't scream ,and ducked behind the desk to the right.

"It's me, Marc," I whispered into his ear. "It's Stephanie. You remember me, right? You're gonna be okay, baby. I'm sorry the bad man scared you, but you're gonna be okay. We just have to be really quiet, and you have to do exactly what I tell you, alright?" Marc nodded and I took my hand off of his mouth. He was a good boy. He didn't scream and he'd stopped crying, he just sat there and looked at me, waiting for me to tell him what to do.

I knew the exact moment the gunman realized Marc was no longer where he had been. The pacing and the ranting stopped and the lobby was deathly quiet, but only for a second.

"Where are you!" he roared. "Where do you think you're going? What do you think you're trying to do? You won't get away from me! You and that bitch girl of mine, neither of you will ever get away from me!" Marc's eyes widened, but he didn't cry out. I peeked around the corner, and the guy was bending over the desk on which Marc had been sitting, trying to look under it. Now or never. We crawled as quickly as we could to the desk nearest the door and waited for our next opportunity.

I saw the boys outside, looking like they were discussing what to do. At least they didn't try to call me. That would be an unmitigated disaster. The gunman was getting closer and closer to our hiding place; I had to think of something fast.

"When I say go," I whispered to Marc. "You run as fast as you can to the door. Don't look at anything but the door, and don't stop no matter what, alright? There are some men outside in black that you've seen before. Go to them and don't leave them until I come and get you, okay?" His eyes were bugged out he was so scared, but he nodded his head and looked ready. He was a good boy.

I listened and waited for the gunman. He was getting closer and closer and any second I knew he would be looking at our table. Then his palms smacked the top and I heard the gun slap flat down just to the left of my head. Perfect. I sprang up, slamming one hand on the barrel of the gun and yelling to Marc to go. I saw him sprinting out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn't spare him any more attention. With the hand not holding the gun down, I moved to punch him but I wasn't fast enough. He pulled me over the desk and I felt a pain in my thigh as it got dragged against something sharp. I pushed off the desk and tackled him, managing to get a few good swings in. The knife in his hand dropped and he went down like a sack of potatoes. I jumped on him, rolling him over and cuffing his hands behind his back. I also had the unfortunate occasion to smell his breath which was so thick with alcohol you could almost drink it. Not that you'd want to.

Ranger, Tank, and Lester burst into the room, guns drawn. Just then I heard the sirens. Good job, boys. The fun's all over. Better luck next time.

"Take care of this for me, would you?" I asked them, putting a toe in the side of the man passed out on my floor. The toe may have been more of a kick and it may have been his ribs more than his side, but nobody commented on it. I went out to get Marc who was sitting in the back of a Bronco with Bobby and looking slightly less scared than before. I told Bobby to scram and knelt down beside the open door, holding back a scream of agony from where the gunman had cut my thigh.

"Hey buddy," I said.

"Hi," he whispered.

"You did very well back there," I told him. "You did everything just right, Marc. You were a very big help to me."

"Thanks, Miss Stephanie," he said. "It was scary." Marc's lower lip was quivering, and I knew he close to tears. I scooped him and let him cry.

"I know, baby. I was scared, too."

Poor kid was only six years old. As I held him, I saw them lugging the man out of my lobby, so I walked back in with Marc so we could get him back to his mother. I put the pass codes into the security system to open one elevator, and left the rest of the lobby on lock-down. No need for everybody to be wandering through the building and invading the privacy of the women who lived there. Ranger slipped into the elevator with me just before the doors closed.

The ride up to the top floor was silent save for Marc's muffled cries. I rubbed his back to try to calm him and Ranger held out his arms to try to take him. Marc was six, so he was big to hold, and heavy, but he needed comfort right now and he knew and trusted me. Ranger he'd never seen before. And Ranger's a man. Almost everyone at SO is uneasy around men, and the children are no different. Marc and Teresa and their family had run from a very abusive father, and had just been terrorized by another man. I was pretty sure being held by another big man just then wouldn't calm him much.

"It's okay, I got it," I told Ranger. "Thanks." The elevator stopped, and I asked Ranger to stay by the elevator and wait for me. He agreed, and I locked the elevator so it wouldn't change floors.

Walking to the conference room door, I pressed the intercom button and told them that it was all clear, but the police were still around. The door flew open and Teresa burst out, quickly followed by Daniella. I handed Marc over and he and his mother were promptly surrounded by the other women and smothered in hugs and kisses. We have a very supportive community here. Daniella hugged me tightly and it surprised me.

"Thank God you're okay," she said to me. "I was so worried."

"About me?" I questioned, surprised. "You shouldn't waste your worry on me." It's not worth it to worry about me. She should have been more concerned about, I don't know, Marc and his mother. Herself, maybe, and making sure she was showing the women a strong front. She just ignored me and hugged me again before herding everyone back into the conference room. I followed and waited for everyone to sit down before letting them know what was going on.

"He's in police custody," I told them. "He won't be out of jail for a long time. I'll make sure nobody posts bond for him, and he won't get off too lightly for pulling that stunt with Marc. The police are still around, though, and the lobby is still sealed. You can go back to your rooms, but the building is secured and the lobby inaccessible for the next hour or two. Any questions?" There weren't any, so I continued.

"I'm going out of town for a while. Cannon's going to be in charge of emergency matters like this while I'm gone. Daniella, as always, is in charge of everything else. The rules are still the rules while I'm gone, and I expect everyone to follow them. That's all I have. I'm sorry this happened." As all the women filtered out, they stopped to say a quick thanks or give a small smile.

"You did a good job," I said to Daniella as everyone was leaving. "You kept everyone calm and contained during the crisis. Good job."

"No, I didn't. I panicked. I was panicking. Well, I was almost panicking. I had the beginnings of a panic going. If I hadn't been able to talk to you, I would have panicked. I don't know what I'll do if something happens while you're gone," she said. Rambled was more like it. All the nervous energy and adrenaline from the incident were coming out as she let herself come down from it.

"We got through this. You did a good job," I told her, willing to be easier about it all now that it was over. "Next time, you'll do a better job. And if something happens while I'm gone, you'll get through it without me. You'll hold it together because you'll have to. Because there are a lot of people here depending on you. You'll be fine." And if she wasn't, I'd find somebody to take her place. I needed somebody who could handle things like this, and if she couldn't, she'd be gone.

"I'm just a crutch for you," I said. "One you don't need." Daniella sucked in a big breath.

"Okay. Okay."

"You'll have to talk to the police tomorrow to tell them what happened before I got here. I think we can keep the others out of it. Now tell me what happened? How did that guy get here?"

"Kathy O'Malley, fourteen years old, 5'7", Caucasian, red hair. Arrived last night with multiple lacerations and severe trauma to her abdomen. Claims her father's been raping her since she was nine years old. He got her pregnant, and when he found out he attempted to beat it out of her. Medical findings support her claim. Evidence of a miscarriage and significant scarring in her vaginal area. Due to Kathy's age, we are required to notify social services. Unfortunately, it was late and social services was closed, so we had to call the police department."

Okay, I thought. So far, so good. Daniella continued.

"An officer by the name of Branskovic answered. I'm intending to file a complaint against him; he was very rude and demeaning to me, and kept making comments about how the girl belonged to her father anyway, and what were we doing trying to take away a man's property." I couldn't believe it. I was so angry I was seething. I hadn't known what the term meant until now, but I could practically feel little droplets of rage seeping out of my pores I was so livid. Branskovic had to be taken care of. Immediately. I clamped down on my fury, barely, and finished dealing with Daniella.

"So," she finished. "I can only assume that Branskovic tracked down Kathy's father and told him where to go. Jerk."

"Which one?" I asked.

"Both." Good answer.

"Double security while I'm gone," I told her.

"Sounds good to me," she said with enthusiasm. Between Branskovic and Blackwell, I didn't want to take any chances, didn't want SO or any of the women there in danger because of me.

"Have a good trip," she said.

"Yeah, thanks." I smiled and she gave me another squeeze before hurrying after the others. I made my way back to the elevator, almost forgetting that Ranger was waiting for me inside. I unlocked the elevator and stepped inside as Ranger looked at me.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

"Fine," I lied. I was still enraged. I was boiling over and trying to keep it contained.

"Interesting security you have here."

"It's yours," I told him distractedly. Later I would wonder how extensively he'd tested the system while I was gone.

"Mine?" He was surprised.

"RangeMan installed it. I had them make a few modifications."

"I see," he said. He saw. Yeah. Whatever. My main goal just then was Branskovic, and if I had a bit of tunnel-vision, I don't think anybody would blame me.

"What happened in here?" Ranger asked as the doors opened.

"Happened? What?" I responded, confused, as I reset the elevator lock. He just looked at me. "Oh, right." Of course. What could I say. I was a little distracted, and my leg was starting to throb from where I'd hurt it.

"I'll have to explain it to the police," I told him, "so can you wait and listen then?" He agreed.

"His badge," I said to the first cop I ran across. "I want his badge." Of course, the first cop I ran across was Carl.

"Who's?" he asked.

"Branskovic. He's got three strikes. This morning when he tried to rape me. This afternoon when I called the department for backup and he told me that my 'whores' would get what they deserved. And I just found out from Daniella that he was the only person she talked to at the police department about the minor, so he had to have been the one who called her father. Reckless endangerment of a child, I want him up on charges. Now." Nobody was moving to do what I wanted them to do. It took a while, but when they'd all finished listening to my story and asking questions, they did start the process. If Branskovic wasn't in jail within three days, I was going to sue the department. Finally, I was allowed to go home, and Ranger followed me to my car. By God, all I wanted to do was sit down for a minute. My leg was burning and it was draining me. And it had started out as such a nice day, too.

"A police officer tried to rape you?" he asked. I could hear the rage I'd seen barely under control throughout the police interview come out in his voice.

"Mmm," I said. "He wasn't very successful." Yes, there was rage there, in his voice and on his face, but there was also pity, and something else. It was that something else that made him look at me differently now that he knew I was almost a victim of sexual violence. He looked almost disgusted. He looked slightly revolted, with me. It wasn't easy to find; there was just a hint of it in his body language, but I could tell. And he only knew about Branskovic. It hurt. It twisted something deep inside that would be forever crooked, but at least I knew I was right in not telling him. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. But if he found out about everything, about Blackwell, it could hurt me, and even though it may have been selfish, I couldn't let myself be hurt anymore. I wasn't sure I wouldn't break and shatter.

"That's what you have to say about it? What happened?" he asked.

"It's none of your business, Ranger. I don't owe you an explanation." He looked taken aback. Sorry, but I wasn't in the mood. Not after the actual event, and then Morelli, and then my family, and then O'Malley the gunman, and then the look on Ranger's face. God, I thought, imagine how he'd look at me if he knew about Blackwell. So no, I wasn't feeling too charitable. And I was still incensed from finding out about the phone call to O'Malley.

"No," he finally admitted. "You don't owe me an explanation. But I'm concerned about you, and want to know what happened and make sure you're alright." Okay, that was a really good answer. He wanted to make sure I was alright, he was concerned about me. God only knows why, but it made me feel better. It didn't change how he was looking at me, but it made me feel better.

"He was on duty when I went to bring in my skip," I told him. We were at my car and I leaned back against it. "He gave me some trouble, and it ended in him trying to arrest me on a bogus charge. He…" I hesitated, unsure I could talk about it just yet. "He touched me, then." I shuddered, still unsteady. "He would have done more, but I stopped him. And I called the Chief and the Commander and they said they would deal with it."

"Why wasn't he fired on the spot?" Ranger demanded. He'd unwittingly put his hand on my upper arm and was running his fingers up to my shoulder and down to my elbow and back again, and while it felt nice, it was distracting. I wasn't paying enough attention to what Ranger was saying and how I was answering.

"He was suspended pending investigation. I assume that with the emergency at the mall, everyone was called in."

"How can you be so calm about it all? You should be…I don't know, angry or traumatized or something," he said.

"Oh?" I asked, angry about the question. "You deal with this much, do you? You often walk into situations where there's a good chance of you being raped?"

"No, but…"

"Didn't think so. Next time you think you're gonna be raped, you let me know how you wind up handling it, kay?"

I took a step away from him and went to open the car door. It didn't last long. He followed me step for step until he was pressing me back into the car. His hands came around my waist, and I didn't know what to do. I was paralyzed. My mind was muddled and my emotions in turmoil, and my wits were dulled by the pulsating pain in my leg. It wasn't fair; I'd been through enough today. I was due a minute to sit and regroup. It was _owed_ to me, dammit.

My hands were between us, not touching either him or me and unsure where to go. His arms tightened and pulled me even closer, and I had no choice but to lean against him. I tentatively lay my head against his chest and he dropped his head to rest on mine.

"Don't be mad, babe," he said into my hair. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but everything kept spinning through my brain.

"I don't know how to handle this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do for you," he continued.

"Nothing, Ranger. You're not supposed to do anything," I told him. I tried to pull away, but Ranger wasn't having anything to do with it.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm supposed to be doing something. Friends are supposed to do something. Comfort, or something. I don't know."

"Thanks. Don't worry about it, though. I'm fine," I told him. He just held me a little tighter. "I'm fine, Ranger. Really." I wasn't fine. I was trying to relax and not think about anything, but everything from the day was just racing through my head, buzzing around faster and faster and I could feel the blood seeping into my jeans until they were wet and I wasn't sure I could keep myself from shaking.

"Let me drive you home, babe," Ranger said.

"I can drive myself home."

"I know," he replied. "Let me drive you home."

"Yeah," I said, "that would be alright." It would be more than just alright. Everything was catching up with me, and as quickly as everything was turning in my mind, my stomach was starting to turn even faster. I felt nauseous and my vision was off and I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it home safely. I handed over the keys and let Ranger take me round to the passenger side, opening the door for me and helping me in. If it had been prom night, my mother would have been happy at the manners he'd shown. But it wasn't, and I was just happy I was keeping it even a little bit together.

I saw Ranger jog over to talk to Tank and the guys. And then Shannon came strolling up. Oh, god. It immediately became very tense; I could feel it from twenty feet away and inside the car. Tank and Lester and Bobby immediately moved to flank Ranger, and I knew there was going to be trouble. It took more effort than I would have liked to get out of the car, and even more to keep from limping, but I managed to make my way over to the boys. They had been speaking softly, and noticed me before I got into hearing distance, but I knew they weren't exchanging pleasantries.

Tank looked like he was going to come to me, but saw Ranger move in my direction and stopped. It hurt that Tank was so willing to step aside now that Ranger was back in the picture. I'd thought that he was a friend. A real friend. But I guess it really was just a job; just looking after some chick while the boss was away. It hurt. It was a big hurt, but I'd swallowed bigger. So it would just add one more ache that I wasn't worth actually befriending. I'd handle it. I'd have to.

Shannon and Ranger got to me at the same time, both impassive, both void of expression. I imagined I looked much the same.

"Having fun, boys?" I asked. There was no response, not that I expected one.

"Fine," I said. "Here's the deal. It's none of my business what kind of relationship the two of you have, whether it's hostile, hateful, or happy, that's your matter. But if either of you start something because of me, I swear to god, I'll end it. You have enough points of friction between you without me, and if it'll prevent all hell from breaking loose in these streets, if it'll keep it safer for SO, for even one woman who might come to SO, it'll be over. Get it?"

This was one of those times where the big talk wasn't just talk. If they started fighting because of me, and it carried over into the streets, it would jeopardize everything I'd worked for. It would make the safe haven we promised SO to be the middle of a war-zone, and I would _not_ let that happen. Even if it meant that these two men would no longer be any part of my life.

If it was possible, they became even more impassive and unreadable.

"So that's the way it is, huh?" Shannon asked.

"If something starts because of me that puts one of mine in danger, yeah. SO's the bottom line, and you know that. You _know_ that."

My leg started to twitch and I couldn't feel my fingers.

Shannon nodded, and Ranger looked from one to the other of us. He looked like he was going to say something, but if he did, I never heard it. My vision went photonegative, and I collapsed. It was stress and exhaustion and pain and adrenaline, and my system was shutting down in self-defense.

I woke up within minutes. I was achy all over, but I wasn't throbbing anywhere. Well, except for my leg. But that meant that I hadn't hit my head or anything else on the concrete when I'd fallen. Then I opened my eyes and saw Ranger's face looming over mine, and realized he was holding me. Shannon was hovering close by with an unhappy look on his face, and I saw the other boys floating in and out of my range of vision. I blinked a few times to try to clear my vision and my head.

"Steph?" Ranger asked. "What happened?" How to answer that question. I was lying half on the ground and half over Ranger. He must have caught me when I fell, and sat down to hold onto me until I woke up.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm fine. Let me up."

"You're not fine," he said. "You passed out. Why?"

"He's right, Steph," Shannon agreed.

"Let me up," I repeated. Ranger was still holding onto me, and I couldn't get up until he let go. With the black jeans, nobody had noticed the blood I felt soaking through them.

"I want to know why this happened, and I want to make sure it isn't going to happen again."

"You don't get to interrogate me, Ranger. I'm a grown woman and I can do as I please. And that includes falling on my ass in public. Now let me up."

It wasn't the most brilliant logic I'd ever used, but it was the best I could come up with under pressure.

"No, Stephanie," Ranger said. "I'm not letting you up just so you can fall down again."

"That's my call to make, Ranger. Now let me up." I was feeling trapped and a little claustrophobic. Not a good combination. Shannon must have seen something Ranger didn't, or couldn't.

"Let her up, Ranger. If she won't accept help, you need to let her fall on her ass. And there's no helping a few bruises on the way." Not exactly rousing support, but it would do. Ranger looked quite unhappy, but helped me sit up and left me alone. Slowly, I got up off the ground. My leg was going to be a problem, but my vision was fine and I could feel my fingers and my toes. I took those as good signs. When I was back on my feet, I slowly started to walk back to my car. I wasn't terribly steady, but at least I didn't stagger. But I felt the jeans pulling where the blood had dried, cementing the skin to the fabric. It hurt, and it felt gross. I got to the car, and realized Ranger still had my keys.

"Ranger?" I called. "My keys?" He threw them to me and I scrambled to catch them. Luckily, Ranger's got a good arm so they practically landed in my hand. If they hadn't, I don't think I would have caught them. I made it to the driver's seat; then I just shut my eyes and lay my head back on the headrest. This was the minute of peace I needed, the one to gather my thoughts and collect myself from all of the events of the day.

Then it was time to go back to life. I pulled out my cell phone and started the calls to all of the bail bondsmen in the area, asking them not to bail out O'Malley. When I'd finished my calls, I looked again in the direction of the boys. They were all still there, talking and looking at me. I turned the engine over and put the car in gear. I was going to drive down the street, and if I thought I couldn't get home, I'd call a cab.

My vision was no longer spinning, and I didn't think I was in any risk of passing out again. The only thing that might have kept me from driving was my leg. It was the right one, the one I had to use for the pedals, and it was so painful I couldn't really feel my foot. But I managed to get back to my apartment safely. Cruise control at its finest. Nobody was about, so I didn't need to be brave or strong and I limped through the parking lot and up the stairs to my apartment. Then I went into the bathroom to administer first aid to myself.

I took off all of my various weapons and peeled off the black jeans to take a look at my thigh. Some of the blood had dried and my jeans were sticking to my skin, so I poured some water over it to loosen it. There was a gash from mid-thigh all the way down to my knee. I rinsed it off again and it looked deep, but not deep enough for stitches. At least, not deep enough I was willing to go to the hospital and get stitches. So I poured some peroxide on it and watched the bubbles. After patting it dry I taped it closed with special medical tape and wrapped gauze around it all to keep it clean. As I was gathering up my weaponry to go to my bedroom, I heard the tell-tale signs of somebody picking my lock.

Oh, god, I thought. What if it was Blackwell? I was starting to panic, but I clamped down on it. He wouldn't take me by surprise again. I quickly lay everything down in the bathroom except for two guns and closed the door. Then, gun in each hand, I stood just to the left of where the door would open and waited. The door opened, slowly, and I saw…not what I expected. It was Ranger. And Tank.

"Need something, boys?" I asked. They looked up, startled. And then looked down, raking their eyes over me. I realized I was standing there in a t-shirt and panties and nothing else. I saw the exact moment they zeroed in on the bandage. It was nanoseconds after that that I spun around and whisked into my room. It wasn't so much that I was worried about them seeing where I'd been hurt, it was that I didn't want their focus swaying from it so they would see the scars on my thighs.

I quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants from a drawer and was putting them on when Ranger and Tank opened my bedroom door and came in.

"Do you mind?" I asked as I put them on.

"Yes," Ranger said. "I do."

"Excuse me?"

"How did that happen?" he asked, indicating my leg. I'd just finished pulling up my pants, so at least now I was fully clothed.

"It just did, Ranger. It's no big deal. I cleaned it up, and it's fine," I told him.

"It is a big deal," he persisted. "You passed out because of it. Why didn't you press charges?"

"No, I…what? No…" I tried to answer, but I was confused and my head hurt enough for me to want to scream.

"Just go away, guys. I'm fine. I just want to curl up for a few hours and do nothing, alright?" At the end, I wasn't sure I wasn't begging. I'd lost track of what was going on. All I could feel were his hands on me, his knife cutting me. I was about two seconds away from a nervous breakdown, thoughts of Blackwell and Branskovic and O'Malley all running together until I couldn't tell one from the other.

"Fine," Ranger practically spat. Some analytical part of my brain that was somehow separate from the rest of me watched as he walked out of the room. Watched as Tank followed without sparing me even a glance. After all, Tank was in it only because of the job. It was just a job to him. I was right, that part of me thought, my heart to sore to shrink further. And Ranger was angry at me. It occurred to me that it would make things difficult for this job. But right now, I just wanted to zone out.

Unfortunately, that wasn't in my near future. I lay back on my bed and took a deep breath to try to calm myself. To try to focus on something, on anything that wasn't flesh and metal and pain. I could hear the two of them out there, still in my apartment, and from the sounds of it having one hell of an argument. I eavesdropped shamelessly, centering my concentration on what they were saying so that I could get out of my head.

"She's so hard, Tank. I just don't get it. She's just… rigid," Ranger said. Hard? Yeah. I guess I was hard. I knew I wasn't a marshmallow anymore, and there was no going back.

"Yeah," Tank said. "She's hard. I was wrong before, I see that know. She isn't soft on the inside, she's iced the whole way through. She's grown up and doesn't want to be coddled or have somebody hold her hand. Get used to it. I did."

"It's taking time. I'm trying to adjust, but it's not going to happen over night."

"You better hurry up. We have a job to do and you have to be on the ball, Ranger. No more shitting around because of Stephanie."

Shitting around because of me. Well, that was certainly an interesting turn of phrase. I heard what sounded like they were flopping on my couch. Then there was silence for a few minutes before Tank spoke again.

"So what happened that you freaked so much last night?" Tank asked Ranger.

"With the mob thing? It was like a trip down memory lane, man. Steph was just, it was Alex all over again."

"She's not your ex-wife, Ranger. Stephanie's not a hit man for the mob, if for no other reason than it might make that organization of hers less shiny. You're not gonna wake up on the wrong end of a gun when you go to sleep with her."

I wasn't sure what to make of that. That Ranger's ex had been a hit man and tried to kill him in bed, I guess. That would explain his flipping out in the kitchen the other night. And Tank could just go to hell. That organization of mine? Yeah, well, I was dedicated. That's not a bad thing, right?

"I'm not going to sleep with her," Ranger said. It was time to stop. I didn't want to hear anymore. I got out of bed and hurried to the living room. I didn't get there soon enough to stop all of what Ranger had planned to say.

"Especially after hearing what happened with Branskovic," he said. "I think…" That was when I froze my feelings, compartmentalized the part of me that was fear and emotion, and focused. I only let that cold, dry analytical part of me into my head as I opened the bedroom door. I didn't need him to finish the sentence to know what he was going to say. I think that she's too hard. Too bad. Not good enough for me. Uncaring, horrible, disgraceful, dirty. I'd heard it all before. It didn't make it hurt any less.

"What are you guys still doing here?" I asked quietly. "I thought I made it clear I wanted to be alone."

"I think we need to be sure we can work together before there's no turning back," Tank said to me, eyes boring a hole in my forehead.

"I'll be fine, Tank. I'm iced, remember? I won't have any problems. Just keep your boy here from pulling a gun on me and we'll be just fine," I said.

"I'll be fine," Ranger said. "It's not me he's worried about. You still freeze anytime somebody touches you." He walked up to me, putting a hand on my hip and another on my neck. Was I fine? Would I be able to do this? Yes. He still wasn't sure what to make of me; a part of me really liked that, but another part was sad. But I'd show him just how fine I'd be. The ability to compartmentalize had save me more than once. Now it would again.

I opened my role and relaxed my body into his hands, gliding closer until we were pressed against each other. I brought my arms up so that they were wrapped around his neck and back, bending my knees to move ever so slightly up and down his body, rubbing us together. I drew his head to mine until our lips were just touching.

"I think I'm ready, Ranger," I whispered.

"Are you, babe?" he asked as he dragged his arm down my body from the back of my neck to my thing, finding the bandage and tapping his hand against it. I separated myself from his arms.

"It'll be fine in a day or two. And it's fine now, just ugly to look at." Like the rest of me.

"We don't have a day or two. We're leaving tomorrow morning," Tank said.

"I'll be fine, Tank. I'd be fine now if I could just get off my feet for an hour or two. Ranger? What do you think." I looked to him to decide what would happen.

"Yeah, Ranger," Tank said. "What do you think?" Ranger looked at me for a while, analyzing and plotting and god only knows what else was going on in his head. Finally he nodded.

"We leave tomorrow morning at five. I'll pick you up at half past three," he said.

"Commercial flights leave that early?" I asked. "And what should I do about my weapons?"

"We're not flying commercial," he said.

"So…what?" I asked. "You own a plane or something, Ranger?"

"Yes," he said. Oh. Well that would make it easier to get through security. Then the doorbell rang.

I grabbed the gun from the small of my back and headed to the door. I peeked through the spy hole and recognized him. It was the kid who delivers flowers to me every couple of weeks.

"Flower delivery for Miss Plum," he said through the door.

"Come in, put it over here." I told him while motioning to my coffee table. When he'd put his load down, I gave him a tip and, having seen Tank and Ranger, he hurried out.

I smiled a little as I saw it; I knew who these were from. Yellow tulips, white orchids, and purple lilies. Alexander Ramos. He'd been sending me these same flowers in a crystal vase ever since I'd taken him for cigarettes and a drink. I opened the note, and, as I'd expected, a bold 'A' was slashed across the card.

But there was another arrangement. A dozen long-stemmed crimson roses. And I had no idea who they were from. I picked up the card as I noticed Ranger and Tank giving me odd looks.

"What?" I demanded. They didn't answer, so I just shook my head and opened the card.

_I'm coming, Stephanie. You're going to be mine._

Shit. Oh, shit, I thought. I felt the blood drain from my face and my knees go weak. He was coming for me. He was coming for me. Again. I didn't know what was I going to do.

"Stephanie?" Ranger asked. I snapped out of the panic, and for that I was grateful to him. I calmed down, and found the ground underneath me again.

"Yeah," I said. "So we're fine, then? We're going to be ok?" Ranger looked like he was going to say something but Tank cut him off.

"So we'll be fine working together? Is that what you're telling me?" Tank asked. I nodded.

"I think we understand each other," I said as I looked at Ranger. "Trust me to do my part, and I'll trust you to do yours." He gave a half-grin and nodded. Then he told me he'd see me in the morning, and they were gone.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself once again. Then I carefully put the note in a plastic bag and stuck it in my dresser drawer. Next to Ranger's check stub. Then, very carefully, very calmly, I checked my apartment, made sure all the windows and the door were locked, and settled in for the night, guns at my side.

When the alarm went off the next morning, I almost shot it. It had not been a restive night. I was spooked and too keyed-up to rest well at all. I got up off the couch and took a quick shower before I finished packing. When Ranger got there at 3:30 I was ready and waiting in front of the building, bags at my feet.

I hopped in the car, throwing the bags in the back and turning to Ranger.

"Let's get this show on the road," I said, and we rolled out of the lot. Neither of us had much to say on the way to the airfield. That was fine with me. It was a long ride, almost an hour, but I was just starting to relax about Blackwell and the note. After all, he wouldn't try anything when I was with Ranger. No, his style was to take them when they're alone and make them helpless. And he couldn't do anything while I was on the plane. So for a while, at least, I would be safe.

I could feel my body reacting, the twitchy hypertension leaving and my muscles relaxing. I looked over to Ranger as we entered the airstrip. He parked the car and suddenly tensed up. Something caught his eye, and when I followed his line of sight, I saw a beautiful, leggy blonde leaning against a car talking to Tank and the boys.

"Shit," I heard Ranger mutter.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"No," he said without looking at me. I glanced back at the girl. So this is what he likes, I thought. Tall, blonde, busty. Much prettier than I ever could be, and probably smarter, too. Well, that's that. I knew for sure, now, that Ranger wasn't going to look at me twice. The flirting and the fun before he'd left had been just that – fun. So be it.

We got out of the car and started to walk toward the group. The blonde saw us and gave a squeal of delight before rushing over and latching herself onto Ranger. I sent an arch look to the pair of them before switching it to the guys. They had equally puzzled looks on their faces, so I just shrugged my shoulders and waited for Ranger and this chick to stop playing sucky-face. I watched as Ranger pried her off of him, and the look on his face made me reconsider my earlier thoughts.

"Get off, Carmondy," he said.

"Ranger!" she exclaimed happily. "It's so good to see you again. I heard about you being back and about the job and I thought I'd come along and help out."

"Carmondy," he started. "Shit." He took her arm and led her a few yards away so that they were just out of hearing range. Especially with the plane warming up its engines. From their body language, I knew that neither one of them was happy. Ranger was his same old statuesque self, but somehow stiffer than usual, and Carmondy was gesturing wildly. Then she spun on her heal and stormed off to a snazzy red BMW and sped out of the field. So maybe she wasn't his type after all.

Ranger came back with a stormy look on his face. The guys were all smart enough to get out of his way, but somehow I'd missed that memo. I saw him zero in on me, and he came over to me. He opened his mouth, anger still clearly displayed on his face. I cut him off before he could say anything. 

"Punching bag is not in my job description, Ranger. If you're angry, don't take it out on me," I told him. He snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Leaning next to me against the car, he said, "Wheels up in 25 minutes. Grab your bags and give them to that guy under the wing." I nodded and he walked away. I did as he'd said, taken my bags from the car and gone to give them to the man standing by the cargo doors loading all the last minute bags and boxes into the plane. I thanked him when he took my bags and followed the boys on the plane. If Ranger was pissy the entire time, it was going to be a long flight.

It was a pretty big plane, with eighteen rows and two seats on each side of the aisle. There was also a conference room in the back. This was a serious plane, and I was seriously impressed. Ranger motioned for me to sit next to him. I would have anyway; all the other eats were filled. The bay doors were closed and the pilot radioed back to us that we were getting ready for takeoff and would be in the air shortly.

As soon as we were at our cruising altitude, Ranger got up to address the entire team.

"Everybody, please take out your packets. They should be in the seat pocket in front of you," he said. I looked for where mine would be, since Ranger and I were in the front row. I found it in a little pouch on the divider in front of us.

I took it out and began to flip through it as Ranger was talking.

There was a basic mission plan, followed by a list of everyone involved and what they would be doing. We had two main objectives. First was to find the person or persons responsible for the disappearances. There was a description of the perps MO followed by a list of dates that the women went missing and when they were found, and what, exactly, had been done to them. I almost flipped out, but I held on to my composure and moved on to the second objective. That was to deal with the drug problem; somebody was selling through the establishment, and the owner wanted it to stop. I was supposed to be working on the latter, but you'd better believe that I'd be concentrating on the disappearances, too.

We'd be heading to a resort just outside of Vegas. It was a whole compound that included a four star hotel, multiple restaurants, a casino, a full-service spa, and a club as well as a few other things. The cover that had been decided upon for the guys was a gym had sent all of its personal trainers on a vacation. I assumed they meant a nice gym. Maybe at a country club. But otherwise it was good; I'd been wondering just how they'd explain the sudden influx of a bunch of hulk-looking guys. It would've been rather suspicious for there to be an abrupt flood in the security guard department.

Then there were diagrams of the buildings with floor plans and such. Well isn't this a large-scale operation. The last thing was a list of all of the people who worked there. Each had pictures and financial accounts and any criminal records next to the name.

I finished reading it, and went back to the beginning to read it again. When I was through, I was pretty sure that I had all of it down.

As I read, I was filtering in what Ranger was saying. Basically, he just went over the packet, saying that anybody undercover could not bring the packet with them, so we should memorize as much as we could. There would, however, be contact with people who did have access to the information, so we shouldn't stress over memorizing everything. Then he asked if there were any questions. I just studied the employees while he talked. Wonder of wonders, during college I'd learned to read and listen at the same time. It was one of the few combinations I could manage to do at the same time.

He asked if there were any questions, and sat back down. Apparently, everyone understood exactly what was going on. That was good. If everybody was on the same page, there would be less chance of a stupid screw up happening.

"Did you hear even a word I said?" He asked me, the anger evident in his voice. I looked up at him, surprised. Where did that come from, I wondered.

"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Of course I did."

"You certainly looked like you were ignoring me, and I need to know that you're on the same wavelength as everyone else here. If we're all on the same page, there's less of a chance of a stupid screw up." Well that actually rather amusing, as I'd just had a completely parallel thought myself. I must have smiled, because Ranger's face turned slightly darker.

"This isn't funny, Stephanie," he said.

"No," I replied. "It really isn't. But if you're so worried about my performance, it would be best if you replaced me."

"I'm not worried, I just need to make sure that you know everything that's going on."

"I was listening and reading at the same time, Ranger. You shouldn't worry so much. I'm on the ball. I'm on top of things. I know what's happening, and know what you were talking about, and understand the plan."

"Fine. You just looked like you weren't doing anything," he said, grumpy. If I hadn't been so entertained by him and his attitude, I probably would have been pissed. But as it was, I found it satirical that he was in such a mood, and intended on enjoying it fully. I prodded him some more.

"Like I said earlier. If you're that worried about how I'm going to do this, or how I measure up to everyone else here, then replace me. Maybe Carmondy would be a good choice?" I said as I smiled.

He gave me such a look; it was surprise and bafflement and scorn at the idea. It was a face I'd remember forever.

"No?" I asked before returning to a serious matter. "Then remember, Ranger, it's all about the trust. Trust me to do my part, and I'll trust you to do yours."

Neither of us felt like talking much after that. Well, Ranger looked like he didn't feel like talking. And that was fine with me. I still needed to order my thoughts, sort through all of my feelings and emotions so I could be well grounded again. So I could get my equilibrium back. Ever since I'd heard that Blackwell had escaped, I'd been off-kilter, and I needed to be back on steady ground. I needed to get my emotional boundaries back in place and fix the walls that had been crumbling down around me. Everything was starting to decompress in my head, and I needed to put it back. Especially if he was working in Vegas, and especially if I was going to go after him.

If I was the one to find him, there would be no more court system. It would just be me, and him, and a gun, and to hell with the consequences. So it was time to deal with all of the thoughts and memories that had been floating around so that I could go back to my calm, to being steady and not an emotional wreck. A small sigh escaped, and Ranger looked at me questioningly. I just shook my head and hunkered down with my thoughts, letting my memories take me where they would.


	5. Memories 1

**Seven Up**

**Part 2 – Memories**

* * *

**One

* * *

**

The ringing of my phone woke me up. I looked at the clock. 7:48 in the morning. Unh. Who in the world could be calling me that early?

"Wa?" It was too early to talk in complete sentences. Hell, it was too early to use a full word, much less a phrase.

"I've got a skip for you. You should come to the office." Vinnie. It was way too early to deal with pervert slime.

"Later, Vinnie."

"Steph, come on…"

"No. I'm taking the week off so that my arm gets better. Deal with it."

I was about to hang up when he caught my attention. "It's a $250,000.00 bond." So that meant I'd get how much? Ten percent of…God, it was too early for math, too.

"That's $25,000.00 for you, Stephanie," he said. "Isn't your rent due soon?"

How'd he know that, I wondered as I looked at the phone. I knew that my life was an open book, but when people know when my bills are due, it's a little creepy. Then again, everything about Vinnie is creepy. But back to the subject at hand, I told Vinnie I'd be in later. After I caught a few more winks.

"I think now would be a good time, Steph. Unless, of course, you want me to give it to Joyce," he threatened.

That little shit. I needed that money. And just think of all the things I could do with it. I had visions of Macy's floating in my head, filled with shoe rack upon shoe rack. That I would get that much money should have set off red flags, but I blame it on the lack of sleep that I didn't feel any signs of foreboding.

"Fine," I said. "I'll be there in half an hour." Then I hung up before he could argue with me anymore.

Falling out of bed, I stumbled towards my closet. March in Trenton is still pretty chilly, so I chose some jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. Then I added a flannel and a pair of Docs and I was set. I just ran a brush through my hair, reacquainted my toothbrush with my teeth, grabbed my purse and jacket and was out the door.

When I got there, Vinnie ushered me into his office. My only thought was ick. I was very careful not to touch anything. Just what I wanted to do at eight in the morning on what was supposed to be my vacation. He handed me the file and the guy didn't look so bad. Jason Blackwell – Caucasian male, 5'11" at 190 lbs., short blonde hair and blue eyes, . It was pretty standard, he was arrested for carrying concealed, but the bond was set at $250,000.00. The amount made me blink. That couldn't be right. Everybody in Trenton has been arrested at some point or another for carrying concealed, and they never set the bond so high for such a simple offense.

"Vinnie? Why the hell did the judge set the bail so high?"

"Just keep reading," he said.

All that was left was the list of priors. It was like that pink bunny with the drum. They just kept going, and going, and going. Among other notations on his record were a couple indictments for rape and murder. And Vinnie wanted _me_ to do this. Right.

"Nope. No way. Not gonna do it. Why don't you give it to Ranger?"

He just gave me a funny look.

After a minute, he answered me. "Because I'm giving it to you. You're not such a bad bounty hunter anymore. I'm sure you can do it."

"No," I said. "It doesn't matter that you apparently think I'm 'not so bad anymore.' Did you look at his file? No way. I'm not going to do it."

"Yes, you are. It's not that bad."

"Not that bad!" I exclaimed incredulously. "He was being tried for murder and rape when he skipped."

"It's not like he was ever convicted for anything." Ladies and Gentlemen, The Logic of Vincent Plum.

"Besides," he continued. "If you don't do this, then I won't give you any more skips. Ever."

Well damn. That little prick.

"Fine. Just fine. I'll go get raped and murdered. Should be fun, right?" I grabbed the folder and stormed out the door.

Connie and Lula weren't in yet, so at least I didn't have to tell them. Although maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Maybe they could yell at Vinnie to not give me this damn file. Maybe it would even work.

I got into my monstrosity of a car and whipped out the cell phone. Hopefully, Ranger could help me with it. He didn't answer any of his phones. I left my number on his pager and a message telling him that I got a stinker of a skip and was wondering if he would be willing to help me with it. Then I went back home. I was exhausted. I hadn't had much sleep for more than a week now, what with late night visits and surveillance, and I'd been waking up early every morning. I had hoped to catch up on my sleep during my injury induced vacation, but it didn't look like I was going to be able to take time off after all.

When I got back to my place, I took a look around. It was a mess. I'd been so busy lately I hadn't had time for even nominal cleaning, and it showed. I spent the next few hours working on getting my apartment back in order. By the time I was done it was after eleven and Ranger still hadn't returned any of my calls. That was odd. He was usually really good about returning my calls. Even when he'd gone FTA he'd called me back.

My stomach chose that time to voice it's opinion. It had nothing to do with Ranger.

I took a quick shower and got ready to face the day. Then I loaded up my purse; stun gun, nail file, hair pick, hair spray – all the necessities. My gun stayed in the cookie jar. Being shot didn't help in the least to endear me to firearms. I put on my shoes, grabbed my coat and headed out.

Parking in front of the office, I went next door to Fiorelli's Deli. After I got my sandwich, I headed over to talk to Lula. Ranger would have been my first choice, but he wasn't answering any of my calls.

"Hey, guys. How's it going?"

" 'Hey guys. How's it going?' You don't really think that'll cut it. Do you?" Lula asked.

I'd hoped I'd be able to avoid this. I hadn't spoken to them since before Morelli's "proposal," and they looked like they wanted an explanation. What fun.

"Okay, fine. Ask away."

And they did.

"What's going on with you and Morelli?" Connie asked.

At the same exact time, Lula asked, "What's going on with you and Ranger?"

"Uh, well," I stumbled. "Nothing. To both questions."

"Uh-huh, girl. You better elaborate on that," Lula ordered. She was working her way into rhino mode. Guess I should answer the questions. Rhino-Lula was a scary superhero. Or maybe super-villain. What was the question again, I wondered.

"Morelli proposed. Then he took it back. _Not_ that I would have accepted anyway. I finally got fed up with his shit, and dumped him. I haven't seen him since that night. And I haven't seen Ranger since he wrapped up Homer Ramos for the police."

They both got funny looks on their faces.

"He got whisked away for questioning, and I had to go to the hospital," I explained.

The looks didn't go away. What the hell was wrong with people? Maybe they all had an eye disease. And it was infectious. Pretty soon I'd be giving myself that look.

"Lula, I was wondering if you would help me with this skip?"

"I thought you were taking a week off for your arm," Connie said.

"I was, but Vinnie informed me that I'd be taking this skip or I wouldn't be taking any other skips ever again. Why he didn't give it to Ranger is beyond me." Those damn looks came back.

"So do you want to ride shotgun or not?" I asked Lula.

"Yeah, sure. But we're taking my car."

I finished my sandwich and Lula and I went out to find Blackwell. We were women on a mission.

I got out the file again and reread it. The home address and the work address were the same. I guessed he was self-employed. Last time one of my skips was self-employed, he was a midget. I rechecked the height. Just to be sure. Still 5'11".

We headed out to the apartment building with Lula playing her music loud enough to burst my ear drums. She was getting into her kick-ass mode and I didn't correct her. Hell, it would've be fine by me if she gave him the electric treatment. Then he wouldn't be able to rape or murder me. Always a plus.

I on the other hand was not getting into any zone. I was just praying that he'd left the country.

When we got to the building, I rechecked the address. It wouldn't do to go barging in on some old geezer with a heart condition. The building was five stories and in very good condition. Lucky for us, it wasn't such a high class apartment building that there was a doorman that would stop us from going up. Not that Lula and her stun gun couldn't take care of that for us, but I was hoping that we could save all the volts for this piece of scum.

The skip lived in 4E. I looked from the elevator, to the stairs, to Lula.

"Un-hunh. I know what you thinkin', but there's a perfectly good elevator right here. No way am I goin' up three flights of steps when there's an elevator that I can take."

That was fine by me. I really hadn't been looking forward to the climb. What was it with these people and heights anyway? Why couldn't any of my skips ever live on the first floor? I'm sure the apartments on the bottom are every bit as good as the ones on the top.

The elevator made it's way up to the fourth floor in a few seconds. It was much faster and less tiring than the steps. The wonder that is the elevator.

In this particular apartment building, the elevators were on one side of the building with a hall stretching out before it. With six apartments to a floor, there were three to the right, and three to the left when you stepped out of the elevator.

Blackwell lived in 4E, the last apartment on the right. We knocked on the door and stood to the side. It wouldn't do for the skip to see us and decide that he wanted to shoot us. There was no answer. We waited for another minute or two before knocking again and calling his name. Still, no answer. Hallelujah, maybe my prayers had been answered. Maybe Blackwell was somewhere in South America, drinking a Piña Colada and laughing at the American justice system.

Or maybe he was dead, or badly injured; maybe he was laying completely helpless there in his apartment. Maybe that was why he'd missed his court date. After all, his file _had_ said that he'd always shown up before. It was one of the reasons Vinnie had agreed to bail him out in the first place.

What are you doing, I asked myself. I knew what I was doing. I was trying to work up the nerve to ask Lula to break-in. I really needed to learn how to pick a lock. It was getting to be embarrassing. And maybe then I could find some locks that would actually keep people out of my apartment. I asked and she told me that of course she could break-in. Of course she could. What's a little B&E, after all. Unless, she said, there was a security chain. Ranger could get past security chains, but then Lula wasn't Ranger. I decided to hope that there wasn't a chain, and wonder of wonders, luck was with us.

We got inside with no trouble. No security chain, no yappy dogs, no nosy neighbors. Nothing. And that's what we found when we walked in, too. The place was empty. The only furniture was the counter in the kitchen, and that was built-in. I checked the medicine cabinet and refrigerator, just to be sure. They followed suit. Completely empty. Well, now what?

Lula echoed my thoughts. "Well, now what?"

I had no clue. This place was completely deserted. Or maybe he'd just taken all of his stuff when he'd gone to Brazil.

"Probably we should ask the neighbors. See if they know anything," I told her.

Probably it would be a complete waste of time. After all, no one had noticed the two of us as we broke in so why would they notice anyone else? But then again, they'd probably know if the apartment had been in use. Or if someone had recently moved. As the old saying goes, only one way to find out.

Lula and I made our way down the hall, but apparently, nobody was home. I thought it was rather strange and just a little creepy.

"Damn, but this place is creepy."

Guess it wasn't just me.

We went door to door on the floor below us, and got the same overwhelming response we'd received on the fourth floor. So nobody was home in twelve different apartments in the same building. Coincidence? I thought not. It was more like no one was living in the entire building.

"Don't think there's anyone living here, Steph."

Lula was getting annoying, what with her vocalizing my every thought. But it might come in handy sometime. Like on one of those days when I had no idea what was going on, much less what was running through my head.

Neither of us really knew what to do at that point so we headed out to the car and back to the office with the music blaring from the speakers.

"Girl, what would the world do with out Dolby," Lula asked contentedly. I came up with hearing, but didn't think Lula would agree.

I decided that it would be safer for everyone if I waited until my ears stopped ringing to drive home, so I went into the office with Lula. Connie and Lula got to talking about something or other. It never ceased to amaze me that these two could see each other every day and not run out of things to talk about. Of course, with me around, there was always something new to talk about. Eventually, my thoughts started to drift to Ranger and the fact that he hadn't called me back yet. I was well on my way to having a tizzy when Connie and Lula's shouting brought me out of it.

"I'm telling you, there is no other way to eat grilled cheese. You put slices of tomato in between the slices of cheese before you grill it!" That was Connie.

"I don't know about you Italians. I thought you was supposed to be good with food. Everybody knows that you put pickle and onion on the inside!" That was Lula.

The both turned to me to settle the dispute.

"I don't put anything on the inside," I told them. "I just dip it in ketchup."

They both looked disgusted. "Can I use the phone?" I asked.

Connie nodded her assent and I quickly dialed Ranger and left a brief message. "Are you ok? Call me."

When I put the phone down, the girls had forgotten that they were in the middle of WWIII and were giving me that funny look again.

"What?"

They quickly glanced at each other. Why was it that everybody could do the ESP thing except me?

"Who'd you call, Steph?" Connie asked.

"Ranger."

They did the funny look thing. Again.

"You know he left, right?" Connie was being very nice about the whole thing. And somehow, that made it worse.

"He left?" I asked, confused. "Where'd he go? When's he gonna be back?"

"Steph," Lula said. "He came in here a few days ago. Said he was leaving town."

He was gone; Ranger was gone. He'd left. Without a word.

"Oh," was all I managed to get out. When the ability to speak finally came back, I told them that I was going home.

I walked out the door and walked right back in to ask if there were any new skips for me.

Connie gave me an apologetic look.

"Vinnie told me that I had to give you all of Ranger's skips until he got someone to replace him."

"What?" I exclaimed. My emotions were in severe flux. First there was the shock over Ranger leaving, and then panic at the thought of taking Ranger's skips. Ranger got the crazies – the hardened criminals. I took the ones that were more like marshmallows.

"Vinnie!" I yelled. "Get you're sorry ass out here."

He poked his head out the door.

"Whaddya want?"

"Why the hell are you giving _me_ Ranger's skips?" I asked exasperated. I couldn't do this. I couldn't take these guys. Vinnie gave me that look. The eye disease look. I was really learning to hate that particular look.

"Well, you know he's gone, right?" Surprisingly, Vinnie had the same tone that Connie did when she told me.

"Of course I do." After Connie told me five minutes ago. He looked slightly relieved. God, I was pathetic.

"Who else do you want me to give them to. Joyce?" he asked incredulously. "Like she'd be able to pull any of these guys in." He snorted and pulled his head back inside his office, shutting and locking the door.

Ok, I thought. I was all Vinnie had left to catch the real skips. I could do this. And there would a lot of money in it if I was going to start doing Ranger's skips. When the crazies get bail, it's not an insignificant bond. Connie handed over five files. I couldn't do this.

"Four of them are easy," she said. "A flasher, a drunk and disorderly, and a pair of brothers who try to make a living by selling cars."

"Selling cars?" I asked. Last I checked, that was still legal. Unless, of course, Congress had finally decided to tackle the problem of used car dealers.

"Stealing, then selling," she clarified. Ah.

"And the last one?"

"A dealer," she said. I was hoping that she was talking about Dougie, but I was pretty sure that she meant the kind that hangs out on Stark Street.

"Wonderful." I grabbed the files and drifted out of the office in a daze.

I got in the car and just started driving on auto pilot. Too much had happened for me to do anything other than ignore it. Maybe later I'd be able to sort through everything and deal with it without losing my mind. Maybe much later. Maybe I'd just continue to ignore it. I didn't know where I was going; I had no destination in mind. I was just driving. Watching the road go by was therapeutic in a way, a mindless sort of activity that had an actual result of putting distance between myself and…well, my home. Eventually, though, I had to turn around and make my way back. By then it was late, almost midnight.

When I got to my apartment, I was still so preoccupied that I didn't realize that my door was open until I was standing right in front of it. Well Girl Genius, I asked myself, what now? I did a quick run through of everything in my purse for something that would help me. My gun was still safely in the cookie jar, so I grabbed my pepper spray and headed in. Not the world's best plan, but it was all I could come up with on such short notice.

The first thing I saw was that someone was asleep on my couch with a blanket completely enveloping him…her…it. I made my way over and carefully pulled the cover off. Shoulder length brown hair was splayed everywhere, covering the intruders face. I brushed it away and discovered that my burglar was Mooner.

"Mooner, get up. Mooner," I called.

"Dude," was the groggy response.

"Do you need something, Mooner?" I asked him.

"Huh?" Wonderful.

"You're at my apartment," I told him. "Is there something you need?"

"Dude. Oh. Gimme just a minute here." The Moon Man looked like he was in pain.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"Yeah, just trying to remember why I'm on your couch," he said. Ah. He was thinking. That would explain it.

"Oh, yeah. Dougie and I flipped a coin!" Mooner exclaimed, proud to have finally found the answer. Unfortunately, it didn't tell me much.

"Dougie's here?" I asked. Great. And where would he be, I asked myself. If he was in my bed, I swore I'd go for my gun.

"Yeah, I'm right here," Dougie answered me. From behind the couch. So I wouldn't have to shoot him after all.

"So what are you two doing here?" I asked them.

"Well," Dougie started. "Here's the deal. See, Mooner's old room mate split, right? So we got to thinking, maybe I would be his new roomy." Thank God. For a minute there, I thought that maybe they wanted a place to stay.

"So, I sold my house, and was moving all my stuff over, right?" he continued. "So when I finished, we decided to make some popcorn." Sounded reasonable to me. Gotta have popcorn when you finish moving. It's like a cosmic law or something. Ice cream is also acceptable.

"And, like, we must have put one to many zero's in when we set the timer, because it, like, started to burn up," Mooner told me as he took up the story. "It was fucking glorious, man. The whole microwave went up. I was, like, roasting marshmallows when the Dougster here put it out."

Oh, no. I had a bad feeling about where this was going.

"Should have had ice cream," I told them. If they'd had ice cream, they wouldn't have had this problem.

"Yeah," Mooner agreed with a look of consideration playing across his features.

"But anyway, now the whole place smells really bad, so we opened all the windows, but it didn't help," Dougie went on with the story. "So then we got out all these fans that I still have from when I was dealing, and plugged them in all over the house and put them on high, and it still didn't help."

"Yeah, but it was fucking awesome," Mooner defended the idea. "It was, like, a fucking tornado had invaded the house, man."

"But we were wondering if we could stay here for a day or two? Just until the smell goes away," Dougie finished. Shit. They looked at me with those eyes glazed over from all the pot, and looked so pitiful. What else could I have done? I had to say yes. I gave them each a pillow and a blanket and told them that I was going to take a nap. Then I gave them a very specific list of things not to do, such as smoking – anything, lighting the stove, using the microwave, using the oven, or doing anything that involved fire in any form what so ever. They looked a little bummed, but I figured that they would get through it.

Five minutes later, just as I was about to fall asleep, my charges started yelling. Unh. All I wanted was eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Was that really too much to ask for? Apparently, it was. Dougie and Mooner just kept getting louder, and louder, and louder. Of all things, they were fighting over the remote. Dougie wanted to watch the nature channel, while Mooner wanted to watch the eight hour marathon of Bewitched. I was kinda proud of Mooner. I didn't know he had it in him to be anything other than passive. Not, so it seemed, when it came to his marathons.

I went out and yelled at them about the importance of quiet when one is trying to take a nap, making it very clear that I would _not_ be happy if they woke me up again. Then I stomped back into my room and tried to fall asleep.

"Get off me!" Voice 1.

"Shh!" Voice 2.

"What are you two doing?" Voice 1.

"Hush, man!" Voice 3.

"Be quiet!" Voice 2.

"Please, man, come on!" Voice 3.

That was what woke me up exactly 23 minutes after I had fallen asleep. I knew this because I fell asleep watching the clock, and woke up facing it. God dammit. Those two just didn't understand the importance of a good nap.

Something clicked. Two. There were only supposed to be two of them in my living room. Why, then, I asked myself, were there three voices?

I crept to my door and peeked out. Sure enough, there was someone else in my apartment. And from the looks of it, he'd broken in. I sighed. What was it that made people break in? Was it me? Nah. Had to be the apartment. Something about it just invited everyone who passed to break in. Wait, inviting to break in…never mind.

The sight in my living room was actually rather humorous. Here were Mooner and Dougie, trying to tackle this big bald black guy. And the guy wasn't big because he'd had one too many ice cream cones, either. But what made it so funny was that Mooner and Dougie were trying to shush him at the same time.

"Man, she's gonna be pissed if you wake her up." Dougie.

"Get off me!" Big Guy.

"Dude, just get out and come back when she wakes up. We could call you, or something." Mooner.

All the while I had been walking towards my kitchen. There was a pint of Ben and Jerry's sitting in my freezer, just calling to me to eat it. Cookie dough and brownie batter with chocolate ice cream. Ben and Jerry are geniuses.

I passed my cookie jar as I entered the kitchen, and I decided it might be a good idea if I got my gun out of it. I gingerly put bullets into the little holes that are meant for them. After all, if I hurried, I might wind up shooting off my little toe, and I'd grown rather fond of that particular appendage over the past 30 years.

Grabbing a spoon and the carton of ice-cream, I sat on the counter to wait until the guys were done. Five minutes later I made a bet with myself that Mooner and Dougie would pin the guy. After all, it was two on one, and they had been watching a lot of wrestling lately. Ten minutes later the ice-cream was gone and I went to sit on the couch. Five minutes after that, both the Moon man and Dougie were out cold. Damn. I'd lost the bet. Well, technically, I'd won it too, I thought to myself before I remembered that the big guy was still here. I thought I might want to do something about that.

"Put your hands behind your head and turn around slowly."

He did as he was told. Wow, I thought. That had to be a first. Someone did what I asked of them. I thought that maybe I should get a book and write it down. Kinda like _Baby's First Book_, but for bounty hunters. Or maybe there was a checklist in that handbook that Ranger had kept talking about. Except that I'd never gotten one. And Ranger was gone.

"Miss Plum," Big Guy started.

Probably it was a good idea to get back to reality.

"Shut up," I told him. I was even more blunt than I usual. "I'm tired. It's been so long since I've had a night of uninterrupted sleep that I can't even remember when it was."

"Miss Plum," he tried.

"Shut up! I wasn't finished," I told him. God was I tired, and I'm a real bitch when I don't get my sleep. "Between my grandmother's snoring, Ranger's 'surveillance,' Dougie, Mooner, and Morelli, I've gotten pretty fucking tired. And now, I get to deal with you."

"Miss Plum," he tried again.

"Shut up," I said again. "I suggest that you let me rant and rave as much as I fucking want to." The only problem with that was that I'd run out of things to yell about. I sighed.

"Why the hell did you break into my apartment?" I asked.

He looked at me funny. "How did you know that I broke in?" he asked.

"Other than the fact that Mooner and Dougie were wrestling you to try to get you out?"

"Well," he supposed. I cut him off. I didn't feel like listening.

"That's the only way people come in. They pick the lock. I'm actually thinking about having this door removed and putting in one of those swinging ones. You know, to make it easier on everyone. Especially since I'm the only person in this whole God damn city that can't pick my locks, so when I lose my keys, I can't get in." I was ranting again. My arms were starting to hurt. It really takes a lot to hold a gun on someone. Guess I needed to work on my upper body strength. Maybe I'd do that someday when I was really bored and have absolutely nothing to do. Maybe I'd do that when I took up jogging again. Maybe I'd learn how to cook. Maybe…

"I need to talk to you," he interrupted. Well zippidy-do-dah-day.

"So you're not here to do anything bad?" I asked, and he shook his head. "You weren't sent by anybody named Ramos, were you?" Another negative.

"Or that other guy? What's his name, Stan? Stella?" I asked.

"Stolle?" he supplied. I nodded. "Nope."

"You're not gonna cut off any fingers or nipples or kidnap me or burn my apartment down or my shirt up or bomb my car or try to kill me?" I asked him.

He looked a little confused, but shook his head no to all of them.

"Good." I stood up and put my gun down.

"Can I put my hands down now?" the big guy asked.

"You can do whatever the hell you want. I'm going back to sleep. If you're still here when I wake up, we can talk then."

"What about these clowns?"

"They're house guests."

"What am I supposed to do with them when they wake up?"

"I don't think I could care less. Just don't hurt them. Too much. Unless they start making a lot of noise. Make sure that none of you wake me up. Or anyone else who comes in while you're here. And make sure that there's no blood on the carpet. Now is there anything else you don't understand that you need me to clarify for you?"

"You're just going to leave me here? Sitting on your couch?" That pretty much summed it up.

"Would you rather go sit in your car?" I asked. When he shook his head again, I told him that yeah, that was exactly what I was doing.

I slammed my bedroom door and fell into bed. Staring at my clock. Again.

The digital read out told me that it was 2:47. In the morning. I was not a happy camper. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep so badly, but my mind was racing so quickly with everything I couldn't even _stay_ asleep for very long anymore. I'd finally drift off, and five minutes later I would jolt awake with another thought. There was no point to staying in bed; I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anymore for a few hours at least.

I got up and stretched and was startled by the presence of a gun on my night table. No, not _a_ gun, _my_ gun, I realized. Well, the big guy had done a good job of keeping everyone quiet, so I guess I wouldn't have to shoot him. I just hoped that he hadn't stained the carpet to badly in the process.

Tank, I thought as I finally put the name to the guy sitting in my living room. That guy who'd worked for Ranger. The one who'd thrown that crack-head out of the third-story window and was then surprised to find that there had been a fire escape that kept the man from going splat. Well fuck me, I thought. It was the man that had gotten shot and blown up because of me. Needless to say, he'd been ok, but still.

After a brief debate with myself, I decided that the gun would be a good thing to bring with me. Not that I could imagine myself shooting him anywhere important. Maybe in his foot. Maybe the shoulder or upper leg if I imagined he was Ranger. Maybe somewhere a lot more vital if I imagined he was Morelli.

I walked into the living room where Tank was asleep on the couch and stood where I could see both him and the door. That way, I wouldn't have to move when he left, and I could keep the gun on him the whole time. Because, really, he was only about eighty-nine billion times better than me at this whole thing, I was sure.

Another quick internal dispute and I settled on throwing a shoe at him to wake him up. And wake up he did. Sitting up and immediately going for his gun. I rethought my position on my gun and tucked it into the small of my back before he saw me with it. Who knew what he would do if her were still foggy from sleep and just saw the gun pointed at him?

He caught sight of me and put his gun away, rubbing his face.

"Shit, you scared the hell out of me."

"I could say the same of you." He looked confused, so I elaborated. "The whole instantly awake with a gun in my hand looking for the unidentified threat? Why do you think that I didn't wake you up by slapping you?"

"Why would you slap me?" he asked with that confused look again. Tough shit for him.

"Tank, get the hell out of my apartment," I told him.

"How do you know who I am," he asked.

"I remembered you. Now get out."

"Miss Plum," he started.

"Tank, I don't want to hear it. Whatever it is that Ranger sent you over here for, you can just tell him to shove it up his ass."

"What, do I look stupid?" he asked.

I thought about it for a minute before deciding that a smart ass remark here would not go over well.

"Look, lady," he said.

"I am by no means a 'lady.' If you really need to call me something other than Miss Plum, you can use Stephanie or Ma'am. But I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a lady. Now," I repeated. "Get out."

"I'm just trying to do my job, all right? He asked me to come over here and…"

"And why would he do that?" I asked him.

"Because…because," he tried, unable to find the words. Probably because he didn't know them.

"Because he what, Tank?" I asked. "Because he cares so much, I'm sure." My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"He does." Tank was starting to sound rather defensive of Ranger. I really didn't care anymore.

"Of course, Tank. And that's why he sent you. Makes all the sense in the world. Especially after I got kidnapped and shot helping him and he didn't even have the decency to send me a fucking thank you note. But of course, that's too much to ask from Ranger. He's dark, and handsome, and mysterious, and has women falling all over him and men pissing themselves just because he walks into the room. So no, of course he shouldn't tell me that he's leaving. Why would he? After all, I'm only Eliza. Why would Batman ever even associate with people like me. The dregs of society. I should probably be praising God that he even gave me a passing glance, no less agreed to play Henry Higgins."

"He told me to come and offer you my services if you ever need any help or anything." He was interrupting again, but seeing as how I didn't have a gun pointed at him and he was bigger than me, I figured he could do that now.

"Because of course it wouldn't do if something happened to little Eliza while he was away. She has to be in condition for him to play with when and if he comes back."

"Miss Plum," he said.

"Stephanie."

"Stephanie, I think you're being a little hard on the guy, don't you…"

"Is that all you were told to do?" I asked.

"Well, yeah," Tank said.

"Wonderful. Mission accomplished. Now you can go back to home base and report your success. Should be a blast."

He walked over to me and handed me a card.

"This is how you can get a hold of me if you need something."

He sighed.

"What now?"

"Ranger wanted me to report back to him directly. What am I gonna tell him you said?" he asked me.

I smiled sweetly. "You mean I didn't give you enough to tell the little general? I could always give you more…"

"No," he said quickly. "That's ok. Really."

I walked him to the door.

"Please call me if you need anything," he said.

I opened the door and told him to have a good night and shut the door as soon as it wouldn't hit him. Then I realized that Mooner and Dougie were gone and opened it right back up.

"What did you do to the two guys who were here earlier?"

He looked a little wounded at that. Wonderful. "What do you mean what did I do to them? What makes you think I would do anything to them?"

"I saw you throw a guy out of a window thinking that he would splat onto the concrete thirty feet below," I said. "That's what makes me think you would do something."

"Oh" he acknowledged with a shrug. "Well, they got hungry about an hour ago and decided to go get something to eat."

I shut the door again and sat down against it. What I really wanted to do was have a good cry, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. After all, if I meant that little to Ranger, then why should I cry over him. I shouldn't care. I didn't care. I took deep, slow breaths and silently repeated that mantra.

Half an hour later, I was still sitting against the door, still trying to convince myself that Ranger wasn't worth any tears, when I heard the lock being picked again.

I jumped up and jerked the door open, yelling, "Who the hell are you and what the fuck do you want?"

"Dude," was Mooner's contribution.

"We figured that you might be asleep or something, and we didn't want you to yell at us again," Dougie said. Great. Now I was feeling guilty.

"Sorry guys. Come on, you can go ahead and go back to sleep, if you want. I'll make sure I'm quiet."

"Dude, I'm like, wired. And I think there' a _Get Smart_ marathon on."

And that was that. The three of us sat on the couch with some pillows and blankets and watched Maxwell Smart and Control battle the evil forces of Kaos until nine 'o' clock in the morning.

I decided that I had spent enough time vegging out and that it was time to get back to work. I fixed myself a peanut butter and olive sandwich, breaking the corners off for Rex, and sat down at my kitchen counter to read the files.

The flasher was one I'd had before. William Earling lived on the third floor of my building. Well that would be an easy one. He was always willing to go, it was just getting him dressed that was the problem. I could grab him on my way out, so he would be first.

I chose the drunk and disorderly for next and proceeded to read it. Holy Shit! This couldn't be right. I called Connie to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

"Vincent Plum Bail Bonding," she answered.

"Connie? Is this right? Do I really get to bring in Joyce?"

"I was wondering when you'd find that."

"So I do?" I asked gleefully. "I get to bring her in? What's the story?"

"Well, the way I heard it, she was out in one of those tacky bars getting drunk off her ass, when this guy tried to pick her up. So she made up her mind to go with him."

"So?" I knew there had to be more to the story. Joyce is the town slut. She probably sleeps with a different man every night.

"So her date wasn't too happy with it."

"Oh." God, how unfair is that. Joyce has a date with one man and another tries to pick her up, and the only men in my life are either not speaking to me or out of town. And neither one wants a relationship with me.

"And?" I prompted.

"And," Connie went on. "She wound up slugging them both when they started to pull her arms." Connie was laughing hysterically by now, but I was too depressed. Although I will admit to cracking a slight grin.

"Then, when the cop comes in, she's sitting at the bar downing another drink. So when he goes up to her and asks her what happened, she asks if he would like to go home with her. He decided that she was trying to bribe him, and arrested her on the spot."

"Why didn't Vinnie remind her to go to court?" That was what I really couldn't understand. I mean, they had what I guess you could call sex at least three times a week. You would think that Vinnie would make sure she went to court because as much as he likes sex, he likes money more.

"He did. Repeatedly. I heard him."

"So then she didn't just forget," I decided.

"Nope. Vinnie was so mad that he had veins popping. He told me that I wasn't supposed to let her have any more skips. Ever."

That got me smiling. No more having to deal with Joyce at the office.

"Thank God."

"Tell me about it," she said. "I was getting sick of having to listen to all those animal noises they were making. You know what he had her sounding like last time?" I was pretty sure that I didn't want to know. "She was making all these weird bleating noises; like she was a sheep, or a goat, or something like that. It was disgusting." Yeah, that confirmed it. I really didn't want to know.

"Connie," I whined. "That was so gross. Really, you didn't need to tell me that. Now I've gotta go; I think I'm gonna be sick. I'm gonna have nightmares."

"Ok," she said completely unperturbed. "See ya later."

I hung up and grabbed the two files for the dynamic duo of car thieves. Barry and Larry White. Both were huge. Huge as in two Lula's rolled into one. Well, it would probably be four, since it two thieves… never mind. In fact, I thought I should probably grab her before I went after them. If nothing else, she would probably be able to help me carry them to the car. So long as they were only passed out, at least. If they were dead I would probably be on my own.

And then there was the drug dealer. When I read the file I just about passed out. Then I remembered the file Vinnie gave me that morning. Knowing that this dealer wasn't nearly as bad as Blackwell, I thought I could do it. And then I thought about having to pick up Blackwell, and I was back to panic mode.

Damn Ranger and his leaving all of this for me to deal with.

"God dammit," I grumbled.

Mooner and Dougie were looking at me. I mumbled an apology to them, assuring the boys that I really wasn't yelling at them. I felt bad. Ever since they'd gotten her, I'd been nothing but cranky. I went back to my brooding so that I wouldn't yell at them anymore. Ranger should have warned me he was leaving, even if for no other reason than to warn me that I'd be getting his files, he should have called. Or at least left a message. Hell, he should have told me because we were friends. Or we were. Or I had thought we were. I suppose we weren't, though, if this was how he was dealing with things. I'd have to remember to return the favor if I ever saw him again. On that note, I got ready to go after my skips.

I told the boys to be good, repeating the rules about fires and food, and went up to Earling's apartment on the third floor. Eyes firmly on the side of the doorframe, I knocked. Last time I brought him in, he answered the door naked. Sure enough, when he answered the door, my peripheral vision told me that he was buck naked. Wonderful. This sure as hell brightened up my day.

"Hello Mr. Earling, I'm…"

"I know who you are. You're Stephanie Plum. You live downstairs."

"That's right," I said. "I was wondering if you would be able to come with me to the courthouse so that we could reschedule your court date."

"Hunh. Did I miss that again?" he asked. "I was hoping you were here because you got tired of those two guys who keep coming to your apartment at all hours of the day and night and decided that you wanted a real man. Just look at this impressive piece of plumbing." No, I would not look, I would not look, I told myself. I kept my eyes firmly planted on the door frame. The last time I'd brought him in I hadn't been strong enough to keep my eyes averted. I'd been scarred ever since. It was an event so traumatic I wasn't sure if I could cope with a repeat performance.

"Oh well," the old man sighed. "I'll bet you want me to put some clothes on before I go, huh?"

"I would certainly appreciate it Mr. Earling," I said politely. All that talk about 'those two guys' was making me depressed all over again. I almost wanted to go after the two dangerous skips so that I could shoot some volts into them and not get into any trouble for it.

"Well, all right. I guess I could put my coat on. It is a little nippy out. Last time I went out I nearly froze my doodad off." Unh. Come on, I thought. All I wanted was for the guy to get his keys, lock his door, and get into my car so I could bring him back to jail.

"We'll have to take your car this time," he said. "Mine is in the shop. Had to get a new muffler put on it." Last time I'd brought him in, I had had to borrow his car to do it. It had been a very low point in my life. Just then, every point in my life seemed to be a low one. Some were just lower than others.

I let him rattle on all the way to the station and while Juniak was writing out my body receipt, I called Vinnie to come bail him out again. It was the least I could do, since he was a neighbor and all. But my motives for the courtesy weren't nearly so altruistic. What with the occasional shoot outs or bombings that seem to happen around me more than occasionally, I really had to make sure that I kept on good terms with all my neighbors. After all, I wouldn't want them to get any ideas about trying to get me evicted.

With Vinnie on his way and body receipt in hand, I strode out the door feeling very lucky not to have run into Morelli. That accomplished, I decided to run by the office and grab Lula so she could help me with the White brothers. I was going to leave Joyce for later. You know, save the best for last. And was I ever going to enjoy bringing that slut in. I could zap her all I wanted without any chance of being arrested. And did that bitch ever have it coming to her.

Before I knew it, I was parked in front of the office. Time flies when you're having fun. Or daydreaming about maiming your arch nemesis. I got out of my car and went inside to collect both my check from Earling and backup for the car thieves.

I must have still had a shit-eating grin on my face because when I walked in the girls exchanged looks. Probably they were wondering about my current level of sanity. I handed Connie the receipt and watched as she wrote the check.

"So, you wanna ride shotgun with me Lula?"

"Damn straight I do. Only it better not be no empty building like before. That was pretty damn creepy." I sighed. Yeah, pretty damn creepy pretty much covered it. I still didn't know what to do about Blackwell.

On that thought, Vinnie walked in the door.

"So how's it coming with those skips I gave you?" He asked me.

How about you take those files and shove them up your ass, I asked him in my head. I refrained from doing it aloud.

"Wonderfully," I told him sarcastically.

"Come on," Vinnie said, motioning to his office as he started to walk back in. Ew. I did not want to go into his den of iniquity.

"Well?" he asked, turning back to look at me.

I got up and followed. Slowly. Once inside, I was very careful not to touch anything. You never know what's been where in Vinnie's office; it's where he hides his perversions from his wife. And I didn't want to get rabies or some such thing. He motioned for me to take a chair and I gingerly perched myself on the edge of what looked like the cleanest one in the room.

"How's the Blackwell case going," he asked as he sat himself behind his desk.

"You know that address he gave you for the bond information?" I asked. "There's no one there."

"Whaddya mean there's no one there?" Vinnie demanded. He did not sound happy at all.

"Just what I said," I told him. "There's no one there. No one was living in the apartment. Nothing was in the apartment; it's completely empty and has been for a while from the looks of it. There wasn't any furniture, and there weren't any marks in the carpet from where furniture had been. Nothing was in the fridge, nothing in the medicine cabinets, and the shower was scrubbed and clean – no mildew or water stains. Nothing. No one lives there, Vinnie."

"Did you ask the neighbors?" he asked. Ooh, I thought. Vinnie was going to just love this one.

"What neighbors?" I said. "All of the other apartments were the same. Nobody home in any of them. I think that it's a vacant building."

"Aw, shit," he griped. As I watched, I could see him starting to turn beet red.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he demanded to know.

"Me?" I asked. What the hell did he expect me to do about it, I wondered. I was certainly no Ranger – I didn't have his skills or his connections. Hell, I could barely catch the skips when I knew where they were. Then I remembered all over again that Ranger had skipped town himself and the hurt in my chest came back full force. I had a feeling that that would be happening to me a lot in the near future, at least until I got used to his desertion.

"Yes, you," Vinnie said. "Who did you think I meant? It's your skip, isn't it?"

I shut my eyes and counted to ten. It really wouldn't help matters if I took the nearest blunt object and beat Vinnie over the head with it. Although I would probably get out a lot of my aggression if I did. And I imagined that Connie and Lula would appreciate the day off. And I'd get a nice upper body work out.

When I had my anger under control, I said "Vinnie, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. The only skips I've had so far have been the one's that are easily found. The ones that have a real address. The only times I've ever even come into contact with a skip who is actively trying to stay away from the justice system for an extended period, and is actually pretty good at it, is when I work with Ranger. When I worked with Ranger, I mean." I was very proud that my voice didn't waver when I talked about him.

Vinnie seemed to be contemplating things. I could almost hear the wheels turning in that twisted little mind of his.

"What about the dealer. How's that coming?" he wanted to know.

"Um, well…" I wavered, unsure of how he would react.

"You haven't even looked for him yet, have you?" he asked. "Fine. Work on that. Tell me what you find by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," I yelped. There was absolutely no way I could bring him in by tomorrow.

"Just what you can find," he objected. "It's not like I'm asking you to have the body receipt in here by tomorrow. Yeesh, you'd think I asked you to climb Mt. Everest or something."

"Just look into it?" I asked. "Just check things out?" It's what he'd said, but I wanted to clarify. Vinnie was a weasel, but he was a very sneaky weasel, and I wanted to make sure that was all he expected me to do. If it was, then I could check some things out that night.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" he replied. That wouldn't be too hard, then, I thought. I was starting to get scared, though. Vinnie was actually sounding reasonable. Reasonable wasn't a word I associated with Vinnie.

"What are you doing now?" He asked me.

"Going after the Whites," I told him.

"Ok, give me a second," he said as he took out a slip of paper and scribbled something down on it. "This is a list of bars that they like to hang out in. You should probably get a file cabinet or something and some folders and start keeping a file on every skip you get. We get a lot of repeats here, and this way when you find information about one of 'em, you can put it into a file. Then when you need to look for them again, you don't need to start from scratch or rely on memory."

Hmm, sounded logical. That was when I really started to question my sanity. Reasonable, logical, and both from the man that was once in love with a duck. But he was being nice about it all, so I thought that the least I could do was return the favor.

"Thanks Vinnie," I said to him as I stood up to leave. "I'll do that."

"And shut the door on your way out," he said, back to his snarling, weasely self.

Like I'd leave it open and expose Connie to your sexual exploits, I thought to myself.

"Sure, Vinnie." I was getting really good at the whole restraint thing, but I wasn't sure how much longer I could be completely civil, so I made my exit a rather fast one.

Connie and Lula were both staring at me when I turned around.

"What?"

"Nothing." Simultaneous answer. Nothing. Sure.

"Come on, Lula. Let's go."

"Sure thing Steph. You sure you don't wanna decontaminate yourself first?" she asked.

"Nah," I told her. "I've got wet-naps in the car."

"Ok. Just lemme just grab some o' my backup," she said.

"Just hurry up. We have a lot to do," I said. And not a lot of time in which to do it.

Connie sent me another one of those looks. I think it was the fact that I didn't argue about Lula bringing her firepower. Let her think what she would. I was starting to think that I should have some firepower of my own.


	6. Memories 2

**Seven Up**

**Part 2 – Memories**

* * *

**Two**

* * *

When Lula finally decided that she was properly armed we made our way out to the car. Then she started to have a fit about having to ride around in the pimp-mobile. I was getting sick of her always having a problem with everything I did.

"Lula, these two guys we're going after are _huge_. There's no way that all four of us would fit into your Firebird. We're taking the Buick and that's that. Now stop acting like you're two years old and get into the car."

That got her to shut up which was a feat unto itself. Lula always had something to say, no matter what. She got into the car without anymore hassle and off we went.

I decided to make a quick stop by their house before we went to check out any bars. After all, if they were there it would be a waste of time to drive all over the city looking for them. There were some cars parked in their front yard and when I went around back, I saw that there were even more parked back there. It made me think that while they might be pretty good at acquiring the vehicles, they weren't so hot at getting rid of them. We went up and knocked on the door, but nobody answered. I was just about to ask Lula for my first lesson in B & E when a neighbor stuck her head out the window.

"You looking for those White boys?" The woman who asked was still in a housecoat and had curlers stuck in her hair. She was eighty if she was a day.

"Yes ma'am. Do you know where we could find them?" I asked her. I didn't mention that we were from their bonding company. Who says I don't learn from my mistakes?

"They're bums, both of 'em. They're usually out all the time. Only come home to sleep. And are they loud when they come home. Drunks, both of 'em," she yelled.

"Thank you for the information, ma'am," I called back. "Would you mind meeting me at your door? I'd like to give you my card."

She seemed to be thinking about it for a minute. From the distance we were standing I couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like she was sliding around her dentures.

"Well, I guess I could do that," she finally answered. When we met up at the front door, I pulled out a card and told her what I was here for, why I was looking for the White brothers.

"Huh, I always knew those two were trouble. So what d'ya want me to do about it?" she asked.

"I was wondering if you would call me at one of those numbers if either or both of them come home."

She took another minute to think about it, and I was near enough to see that she was in fact shifting around her uppers. It reminded me of Grandma Mazur. She finally told me that she thought that she could do that for me. Then she wanted to know if she got a badge. I thanked her for her help and Lula and I took our leave.

When we got to the car, I looked at the list that Vinnie had given me. I had no idea where any of the bars were, so I gave it to Lula.

"Most o' these are either on Stark or Sloane. Just turn," she said. Well that's enlightening, Lula, I thought. I had to ask if she meant right or left.

"Left! Now!" she screeched.

"Lula," I said, irritated "I need just a little more warning than that."

The rest of the ride there was the same. Lula giving last second directions, and me yelling at her for it. I was beginning to think that she took turns so fast because she didn't remember until it was almost too late. And she drives a lot faster than I do.

Forty minutes and countless close calls later, we finally got to the bar the brothers were in. Luckily we got there in one piece. Of course, I had been driving Big Blue and nothing ever happens to that car, so I guess it wasn't like we were ever actually in danger from all the drivers I cut off in an effort to follow Lula's directions. I can't say the same for any innocent bystanders who got in the way.

I spotted them in a booth near the back with a pitcher of something in front of them. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed too drunk yet.

We made our way back and I asked them to come with us. The smaller one, and small was a relative term, started to protest. Then the bigger brother kicked him under the table. At least I thought that's what he did. I hadn't seen him, but the smaller dude made an "oomph" sound, followed by a rather colorful string of expletives. In the end, they both got up and came with us.

Just as we got outside they decided to make a run for it. Probably that's what the kick was about. Bastard men. Couldn't a man just once do what I wanted? Once. I watched their fat rolls flubber and bounce and thought that the answer was a resounding no. I was still trying to decide whether or not to run after them when Lula took off, rhino mode in full swing.

"Don't worry Steph, I got these mother fuckers," she called back to me. "There ain't no way they gettin' away from me!"

That decided me, I was definitely not going to chase after them. I was just going to walk calmly after them and watch to see what happened. And boy did it ever happen. Lula was making really good time and was right on their heels when she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. She was close enough that when she fell, she grabbed onto Larry, who grabbed onto Barry, and all three went down in a heap. Kinda like Dominoes. A really, really big game of dominoes. Personally, I'd never really liked that game. You would spend all that time setting the dominoes up, just to knock them down. I liked the knock them down part, it was just the tedious job of setting them all up that drove me nuts.

I thanked my luck star I didn't have anything to do with this dominos game. Lula went down screaming and cursing up a storm, but had somehow managed to hang onto her stun gun which, once she recovered from her momentary shock at falling over on her ass, she was quick to use. What she forgot was that all three of them were tangled up, so the shot she put into Barry, or maybe it was Larry, I couldn't tell them apart, knocked all three of them all out cold.

Wonderful.

I left them laying on the sidewalk and went back to get the Buick. When I was next to the passed out bodies of my partner and my skips, I looked up at the sign. No Parking, it said. Of course. I ignored it and parked right under the sign. By that point, I really didn't care. Somehow, the thought of a parking ticket didn't really bother me too much in the scheme of things. And besides, I could probably bribe Eddie into making it disappear if there was a cop with his stick up his ass enough to give me a ticket while I was loading three unconscious bodies into my car. When I thought about it some more, I wondered why a cop _hadn't_ made his way over yet.

By the time I got out of the car and over to them, both Barry and Larry were starting to wake up.

"Hi boys." They looked at me with expressions of mistrust and disbelief on their faces.

"So you didn't like Lula too much, huh?" I asked. They shook their heads. All doubt about Connie's assessment of these two vanished. Neither Barry nor Larry were at all bright.

"Well then," I said. "I'll make a deal with you. If you get into the car right now, and promise that next time you two go FTA you'll come along with me without a hassle, then I promise not to let Lula get anywhere near you. Deal?"

They seemed to consider it for a moment before they both agreed. We shook hands to seal the deal and they quickly got into the car. Hearing Lula grunt might have had something to do with that.

"Steph? What happened?" she asked as I got out the wet naps for the second time that afternoon.

"I'll explain later," I told her. "Just get in the car, and don't even turn around to look at the Whites, ok?"

"Yeah, Steph. Sure," she said, still dazed but surprisingly compliant. I was guessing that this docile side of Lula was brought on only because she'd just been zapped with a few hundred volts. I'd have to keep that in mind.

We managed to get to the station without anymore hassle and I got the brothers deposited. I was just going to leave when a hush fell over the entire room. Like an idiot, I looked back to see what was going on. It was Morelli. I looked at him for a minute. He refused to even look at me, preferring to pretend I didn't exist. Funny, I thought, that I hadn't realized how much it would hurt to have Joe out of my life completely.

Refusing to cry, I fled from the station. One good thing about driving the Buick is that I never have to worry about Lula deserting me at the police station. She had an annoying tendency to steal my car and get out of range of the cop shop. And on that day of all days, I did not want to have to go back into the station to call for a ride. Probably I would have walked home first.

Once I'd started the car, Lula asked what had happened. It took me a minute to realize she was talking about her encounter with her own stun gun. She was not too thrilled with the story, but it got me laughing. It was nice to not be at the end of a bounty hunting mishap for once. I had the thought that I might have passed along some of my bad bounty hunting karma to her. It was a nice thought, and one that kept me smiling until we were almost to the office. Then I remembered about the dealer. And Blackwell.

I pulled into the parking lot and got out the file on the dealer.

"Shannon Lawrence, a.k.a. Cannon. You know him?" I asked Lula.

"Sure," she said. "Everybody knows him. He's one mean son of a bitch. That one's usually on a corner sellin' his wares. Especially if he be goin' to jail. Wantin' to get out all of his supply to his guys afore he goes into lock down. So he can still turn a dime while he's outta commission."

She told me what corner I'd find him at and then offered to come with me. I figured it would probably be better if she did. I didn't exactly fit in on Stark Street. I was the wrong color and gender for the street, and the inhabitants instinctively knew that I wasn't one of the hunters. And on Stark, if you're not a hunter, you're the hunted. I needed Lula with me to help me navigate the street.

Lula was a different brand all together. She wasn't a hunter, wasn't the hunted. She was a survivor. She'd lived the street and survived to get out of it

I found a parking space relatively close to where Lawrence's corner was and we went to find the man in question. I was surprised to find that he was actually quite nice when we got there.

"Lula!" he exclaimed when he saw her. I saw him give me the once over. Then I saw him dismiss me. He knew I wasn't buying what he was selling, he knew that I wasn't a threat to him, and he knew that he'd get more from Lula than from me. "What up girl? You be hanging with this white girl? That why you been dissin' all us up in here?"

"I ain't been dissin' you, man. You talk to her. Then you see why I be hanging with her. You see. She straight." She was reverting back to her street slang, heavily slurring some words and biting the ends off of others. I almost couldn't follow but somehow I managed.

"So, who you?" he asked me suddenly. I blinked.

"Stephanie."

"Stephanie? What kinda name is that?" he asked with an incredulous look on his face.

"Probably the same kind of name Shannon is," I shot back. Except I'm a girl, so my name fits, I added in my head. Lula blanched as much as a black woman could, and Shannon let out a bark of laughter.

"Damn, Lula, you right. She straight," he said before he turned to address me. "Now, nobody calls me Shannon, but I guess it be ok if I let you. So what you doing down here? You don't look like you from this area of town, if you know what I mean." Master of pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah," I said. "I figured that out a while ago. That's why I brought Lula."

"Don't sound like you from here neither," he continued.

"Guess I'm not multilingual," I said, remembering when Ranger had come to rescue me from a pair of handcuffs and a shower.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo!" He was honest to God hooting at me. What a comedienne I must be. No matter how funny he thought I was, though, I didn't think it would net me enough to quit my day job. When he was done hooting, he asked what I needed.

"I work for your bonding agent," I started. I never had a chance to finish.

"You mean you Bombshell?" Shannon asked as he turned to Lula. "Girl, why's it you didn't tell me that? You know we's wanting to know who's it we dealing with. And Bombshell, you needing to be telling people who's you be. It's not nice to be telling peoples you be one person when you be another." It seemed my reputation had proceeded me. I didn't know I had a name, though. Bombshell. It just figured, didn't it?

"Uh, sorry?" I said, confused. "I didn't know that I had a name other than Stephanie. I'll be sure not to make the same mistake twice." I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but Lula gave me an approving look so I guessed I was doing all right. Hot damn I was learning. Fumbling in the dark, as always, but learning.

"So I be guessing I missed my date with the law, huh?" Shannon asked.

"Sorry," I said, "but yeah."

"So I needs to be coming with you?" he wanted to know.

"I'd appreciate it," I told him. I was pretty sure Vinnie would die when I told him about this.

"Sure," Shannon said. "I guess I can do that. Lemme close up shop. Wouldn't want no more charges on my record."

I had been a little antsy about that, too, so I didn't argue. He came back maybe five minutes later, ready and willing to go. It was probably the easiest FTA I'd had in a long time. It was right before we got to the station that he said something very interesting that, at the time, I didn't really understand.

"Lula, you be sure to give the Bombshell my number. In case she ever be needing anything," he said.

"Um, Cannon, my girl ain't into that stuff. Sorry, man."

"No, no, girl. I knew that. That's my business, don't you think I can tell? I be meaning information, stuff like that. Give her that number. Not my work one. Got it?" Shannon asked. Somehow, it sounded more like an order than a request, but I didn't think that either Lula or I were going to contradict him.

"Yeah, sure, man," Lula said.

Once again I was in uncharted territory, unsure what exactly was going on, but somehow I felt a thanks was in order. He gave me a huge smile. Huh, guess I got brownie points.

The two of us went into the station and everything got quiet. Again. I looked around but thankfully Morelli was nowhere to be found. I assumed that meant the quiet was due to the man I walked in with. I could tell that the cops at check-in were nervous. They did that move, that little twist of their hip that assured them that their gun was where it was supposed to be. So Shannon was probably a little more dangerous than Lula had let on. And it had probably been something big that he had given me his non-work number.

Juniak was manning the desk when we walked over. As he was processing the paperwork, Shannon turned to me and tried to do one of those hand things. Tried was the operative word. He laughed and gave up, throwing an arm around me in a quick hug.

"Next time, Bombshell, I teach you how to do that. It'll be fun. You see," he said. I wasn't eager to argue with him.

"Uh, ok," I said as I grabbed the receipt. "See ya later."

"Bye Bombshell."

He turned to follow the waiting officers back to a cell. As soon as he got out of earshot, Juniak, Carl, Big Dog, and Eddie all descended on me asking me rapid-fire questions without giving me any time to answer. They went on for quite some time. I let them. After all, they had to run out of questions sooner or later, didn't they? They didn't. After what seemed like ten minutes of their barrage of questions, I quietly told them to shut up and walked out the door. I saw the look they gave me. Like I had two heads and neither one was where it was supposed to be. Guess they thought I'd always do everything they expected. That I'd always be a screw-up and a failure. I was going to show them. I'd show them all.

Since they were still stammering, unable to form a word much less get it out, I took the opportunity to get away from them and headed out to the car, waving and calling out a goodbye over my shoulder. I got in the car and noticed that Lula was looking at me like I had three eyes.

"What?" I asked, annoyed. First the guys at the station, then Lula.

"Girl, do you have any idea what just happened?" she demanded.

I really didn't. I only knew that for some reason, everyone was acting really strangely now.

"Uh…no?"

"Girl, that man is in charge of all distribution on Stark. And he _hates_ being called Shannon, but he said you could do it. And he's been known to do some bodily harm to people who call him on his private line without an invitation, which he just extended to you. "

I guessed that it was a really big thing. Lula was working herself into a tizzy, and I gave a brief thought to my course of action should she pass out on me, but I was entirely unsympathetic.

"So he's high on the drug chain?" I asked to confirm. "And he's a very dangerous man, known to do serious bodily harm to people who piss him off?"

"You better believe it, Steph. And you got him practically eating outta your hand," she preened.

"Nevertheless, the only warning you thought to give me was to tell me that he's a 'mean son of a bitch'? If you had this information before we went down to his corner, why didn't you tell me? Did you think I didn't need to know for some reason? That I would be better off going into the situation blind?" I wanted answers, and I wanted them immediately. I was sick and tired of people holding out on me and I wasn't going to stand for it any longer.

"What's wrong?" she wanted to know. "It's not like nothing happened."

"But it could have. If you're riding with me again, I expect you to tell me everything you know about the skip we're going after. Understood?" I demanded.

"Fine," she humphed and crossed her arms. "But you don't have to go all huffy 'bout it."

"Apparently I do," was all I said.

We got to the office and went in, Lula flopping on the couch without saying another word to me. That was fine. She could be mad at me. So long as she didn't lead me into anymore potentially dangerous situations without telling me what she knew. I gave the body receipts to Connie and waited for my checks.

"Is Vinnie in?" I asked her.

"Sure," she said. "If you really wanna talk to him."

I just shrugged my shoulders and grabbed my checks.

"You mean you're gonna talk to him twice in one day?" she asked incredulously. "What happened?" I ignored her.

"Vinnie?" I called as I knocked on the door.

"Yeah," he yelled. Connie was right. I didn't want to go into Vinnie's office again. I was beginning to think that maybe he wasn't such a toad after all, but that didn't mean I wanted to be contaminated with Vinnie cooties.

I perched myself on the end of the chair across from Vinnie's desk and smiled.

"Well?" he asked me, giving me a look filled with suspicion and mistrust.

"I got him," I said.

"Who?" he asked intently. "Who'd you get?"

"Shannon," I said proudly. I figured I had at least a little room to gloat. After all, I did bring in the top man on the drug chain. If by bring in I meant drove to the police station.

"You got Cannon?" he said with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "How'd you manage to pull that off? And you'd better not let him catch you calling him Shannon. He's broken legs over that crap."

I gave him the whole story, from Lula's lack of information to the words exchanged at the station. When I was done, he smiled and shook his head.

"How do you do it?" he wanted to know. "You don't really know what you're doing out there, you go in with bad info, and you manage to get him to take a ride with you." He paused.

"Yeah," he said. "You're not gonna be so bad once I finish training you. Not bad at all."

Training me? I wasn't sure I wanted Vinnie training me for anything.

"Yeah," he said again, nodding and writing something down. "You can go to the gun range on your own, and you need to take some self defense classes. I'll set you up with my contacts all over the city. Now that you have Cannon's number, though, I wouldn't be surprised if Cannon's people called you and offered you their services. But the more contacts you have, the better it'll be. It never hurts to double check things. Here." He handed me the paper he'd been scribbling on.

"What's this?" I asked looking at the list of names.

"Those are the names of some self defense instructors and people who'll be able to help you with apprehension techniques. Call the first one tonight or tomorrow and set something up. After you've learned everything from him, go onto the next one and so on. And don't forget to go to the gun range."

I took that as a dismissal and got up to leave.

"Oh, and Steph?" He called. I turned back. "Good job."

That made me smile. "Thanks, Vinnie."

I made sure to shut the door behind me. Lula rushed over to me with a piece of paper.

"This is Cannon's number," she said as she handed it over with trembling fingers. "Be real careful when you use it."

"Don't worry. I only plan on using it if I'm desperate," I told her. And maybe not even then. I wasn't sure how I felt about having a drug dealer as a friend. But, I thought, I'd had mercenaries, hookers and mobsters on that list, so I wasn't so sure a drug dealer was really that big a deal.

"I'll call you tomorrow to see if there are any new skips for me," I said to the girls. Walking out the door, I saw that it was too late to go the bank to deposit my checks. But this was Jersey, and the stores didn't close with the banks. I decided to take Vinnie's advice and buy some file folders. I had accumulated enough slips of papers and numbers that things were going to get lost if I didn't. There weren't enough to justify a filing cabinet, yet, but there were enough that I needed some organization. And for the moment, I could just put the files into a drawer, or something.

When I got home with my files, I immediately started organizing. It didn't take me long before I had finished putting all of the papers into the files, and all of the files into an empty drawer in my desk. I felt like I'd had a very productive day. I'd brought in a bunch of skips. I was getting to be good at my job. I was organized. And, I'd received some praise. Any praise at all, even Vinnie's small praise, seemed to make it even sweeter. Our relationship had always consisted of witty repartee, threats and digs at each other, but I could see that it was changing. It even seemed like it could be a good thing.

I sat down on the couch to watch some tube as a reward for a good day's work and promptly fell asleep. Sometime later, I was jolted awake with that feeling that someone was in my space that didn't belong. I didn't know how much later it was, but I could tell by the light that it hadn't been very long. An hour at the most. Just as I was going to sit up, I felt something cover my nose and mouth while a strong arm held me down. Then I passed out.


	7. Memories 3

**Seven Up**

**Part 2 – Memories**

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Three

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****A/N: **The beginning of this chapter contains adult situations and a graphic description of things that happen to Stephanie. It should not be read by those of you who know you shouldn't be reading it. This group includes the squeamish and the underage. If you tab down about three to four screens, you should come to the end of that part and the beginning of the rest of the story.Thanks, and happy reading. aly

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When I woke up again, I wasn't sure where I was or for how long I'd been out. I tried to look around, but I couldn't see anything. I tried to listen for sounds, but I couldn't hear anything. I tried to move, but my arms and legs wouldn't cooperate. I started to panic, not understanding what was happening to me. Then I felt something hard and cold touch my leg. My bare leg.

If I'd thought I was panicked before, it was nothing compared to what I felt then. I thought I was going to pass out I was so afraid. Then I got a grip. I ordered myself to calm down. I couldn't do anything to help myself if I was out cold or to frenzied to think straight. I made myself take calm, even breaths and think about my situation. I opened and shut my eyes a few times and there was still nothing but darkness, but I felt my eyelashes brushing against something. So probably I had a blindfold on, which meant I wasn't blind. That was good. I didn't want to be blind. But it meant somebody had put the blindfold on me. That was bad.

I continued to take stock of my situation. The quiet, the absolute silence, was odd. Trenton doesn't have many areas with that caliber of silence. There are usually sounds of traffic, or people, or even bugs. So it meant this guy had either taken me out of Trenton or had done something to prevent the sounds from being heard. I wasn't sure which one to hope for, as one meant I'd be in unfamiliar territory and the other meant that the soundproofing could work both ways.

My head was throbbing, and I thought that it might be a side effect of whatever had been given to me to put me to sleep. The front of my head felt like it was slowly being sawed away from the rest of my face. When I thought that, I almost panicked again, worrying that that was what they were doing to me. Then I reasoned that the pain level for sawing my head open would actually probably be a lot worse than the pain I had.

Then there was that brush against my leg again. This time, it was higher, on the inside of my thigh. I tried my arms again, and twisted my wrist. Then I felt the rope. It was coarse and scratchy, and tied tightly around my wrists and ankles.

The throbbing in my head had slightly subsided, and I noticed my ears felt clogged. No, I realized. They weren't clogged. They were plugged. I had earplugs in.

Oh, god, I thought. I was blind and deaf and unable to move at all. And there was somebody in there with me. I didn't know what to do, what I _could_ do.

Then a hand touched me, this time brushing my cheek. I couldn't help it; I started to struggle against the ropes and toss my head in an attempt to get out of the blindfold. Nothing, then a quick tug and off came the blindfold. Again and off came the earplugs. It was bright, and I winced away from the light. Then I saw who it was. Blackwell. Jason Blackwell. My skip. All of the information from the file came back; all of his prior arrest record dancing in front of my eyes. Rape. Attempted rape. Murder. Attempted murder. Assault. Assault with a deadly weapon. Manslaughter. Vehicular manslaughter. The list went on and on and on.

"Hello, Stephanie," he said in this voice of his that was sickeningly sweet. "I have plans for you."

Oh, god. I saw the scissors and watched in horror as he rubbed the flat of the blade against my leg. I realized that the scissors were what I'd felt earlier. I'd felt the bottom of them brush my leg when he must have been cutting off my pants.

"I was starting to worry, Stephanie, because you slept for so long. I'll have to punish you for that," he said.

I'm not sure how much later it was, I'm not sure how long he had me. He'd put the earplugs back in and replaced the blindfold. And then he'd gagged me so that I couldn't even scream. Then my clothes were finally gone. All that I had left covering me were my bra and panties. And he took care of those soon after. I was so scared, I was shaking. There was nothing covering me. Nothing to shield me from this psycho. Not even a thin layer to protect me.

Time seemed to stop, slow down so that it crawled. I couldn't do anything about him or what he was doing to me. I was blind, deaf, and defenseless. It left me completely vulnerable to anything he wanted to do to me. And it made my sense of touch that much more sensitive. It was not a plus for me. He raped me as I was lying there helpless. At some point, I must have passed out, because he slapped me back into consciousness and split my lip. I felt the skin break against my teeth, and then I felt the sting from his finger in the open wound. Then he lay back on top of my, putting his face to my ear.

"Stephanie, Stephanie," he said to me. "You shouldn't hurt yourself like that. But oh, does it taste good. I can't wait until I can play with more." I didn't even want to guess what he meant by that, didn't even want to have heard it. But that didn't matter. He showed me.

All thought stopped when I felt the blade against my skin. Not the edge, the flat. He was running it over my stomach. Back, and forth. Back, and forth, until the skin under it was tingling. Then he cut me. At first my skin was still tingling so much that I couldn't really feel it. Then there was that deep quiver that comes when a sharp knife cuts deep through skin. The one that's not quite pain. Not yet, anyway.

Then the cuts started to hurt, and I screamed through the gag. It hurt so much I couldn't tell where he'd cut and where he hadn't. My panic levels were reaching new heights. I felt the blood pooling on my stomach, running down my sides. So much blood the bed was sticky with it. I thought I was going to die. I knew I was going to die.

And then he stopped, and I thought he might be done. Wishful thinking. I felt a hand splayed over my stomach, pressing and rubbing. I screamed from the sting his hands were causing. Later, much later, I realized that he'd done the exact same thing earlier. When he'd seen my lip bleeding and he'd put his finger to it. It was almost ironic, sort of a gentle preview of what was to come.

He enjoyed raping me. He liked that I was screaming in pain and terror and that my blood was seeping out of me, staining him as it was killing me.

And then his hands were off of me. This time, I didn't even hope he'd be finished. I knew he'd be back. I felt something being poured on me and thought it might be water. Until I realized it wasn't. I screamed until my vocal chords gave out. And then I passed out.

I couldn't remember anything else before waking up to someone untying me. They'd taken off the blindfold and the earplugs. I blinked my eyes open, afraid I'd see it was Blackwell. I turned my head so I wouldn't see him getting ready for another round. Instead, I saw him passed out and tied up on the floor by my wall. Which meant someone else was untying me.

I wanted to scream, kick out at this new threat, hit him, anything, but I was afraid that he would stop untying me, and I wanted to be untied more than anything in the world. So, I did nothing. I just lay there, still as I could, and waited for the man to finish whatever he was going to do. Because after all, I didn't think it could be worse that what Blackwell had done. And, if by some cruel whim of fate, it was worse, then I wouldn't live through it and it wouldn't matter very much, would it. It probably didn't matter anyway. I wasn't sure I was going to live through what had already been done.

All desire to protect myself died at that point. It just slowly drained out of me, until I no longer wanted to kick this man. I didn't want to scream for help. I didn't want anything, didn't care about anything, didn't need anything. Come what may, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore, especially not me. I was going to die, and it didn't matter. Secure in this new found knowledge, I drifted off to sleep.

I found out later that I spent the next twenty-four hours drifting in and out of consciousness. I could remember bright lights, people bustling around, and people in unrelieved white coming and going from my room. When I finally woke up and was coherent enough to string two thoughts together, I reasoned that I must have been taken to some sort of medical facility, though it didn't resemble any hospital I'd ever been to. For one, it was _quiet_. I couldn't hear anything outside my door. A hospital is always busy, always has a million things going on in a million different directions. And that creates at least some noise. Another thing? The walls weren't white or some neutral beige. They were a pretty lavender color which no hospital in my experience has ever used. And then there was the crystal vase with the daisies. Who would bring a crystal vase to a hospital?

Then my musings were interrupted when a woman wearing the white lab coat came in. She had the air of a doctor around her – quietly self-confidant with a voice of authority, brooking no nonsense. Though really, for all I knew, she could have been a mad scientist and I could have wound up as Mary Shelly's next creation. I certainly had the stitches for it.

It took a while longer before I decided that I was clear-headed enough that I could talk to my supposed doctor. When I did, I'm afraid that I wasn't all that polite.

"Where am I?"

She looked at me funny for a minute before telling me that she'd send somebody in to me in a few minutes. Before she could leave, I asked her another question. After all, the more questions you ask, the more likely you were to find out something, no matter if it was from an answer or the lack thereof. Something I'd learned over years of talking to Ranger.

"You're a doctor, right?"

"Yes." She looked at me as though she wanted to run some tests to see if I'd sustained any brain damage during the course of my injuries. I was not amused.

"I'm just making sure before I ask you my other questions. Now how long have I been here?" I demanded.

"You were brought in yesterday morning with severe trauma to your abdominal area and minor to serious abrasions to your extremities as well as critical blood loss. A rape kit was taken and came back positive. We stitched and taped the cuts on your arms and legs, depending on their severity, but your abdomen…" she paused and came back over to the bed. "Stephanie, there wasn't much undamaged skin that we could put the stitches in. We couldn't do much but clean it and put you on antibiotics to prevent infection." I took a deep breath, trying to take all of it in.

"But I'm not going to die?" I finally asked.

"No, Stephanie," she said. "You're not going to die." I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. I'd come to grips with dying. Now I had to come to grips with living. It wasn't nearly as easy. I just looked around, focused on the familiar squeaking sound of Rex's wheel.

"Giving the doc problems, Slugger?"

"Shannon?" To say I was surprised would have been the understatement of the year. While I was still recovering from the shock of Shannon of all people visiting me, the doctor took herself from the room. Smart woman.

"Sup?" he asked.

"You came to visit me?"

He looked at me a little oddly.

"Of course," he said. "How much do you remember?"

More than I wanted to, but obviously not everything.

"Was it you?" I finally asked. He nodded.

"How did you know?" I questioned. "How did you know to come by then?"

"Honestly I didn't, Steph," he confessed. "I stopped by to let you know I got bail again, and to see if you wanted to grab lunch somewhere. Then I found you. And him."

We both paused, digesting, I guess, before he asked the question. I was dreading that question.

"What happened, Steph? Who is he?"

I didn't want to talk about it. Not then, not ever.

"Is he dead?" I asked. I needed to know if he was dead.

"No," he replied calmly. "Do you want him to be?"

Yes. I wanted him dead. But before he died, I wanted him to suffer the hell I was going through.

"Where is he?"

"Locked room."

"Keep him there for now. I don't know what I want to do with him yet," I told him. "So where am I?"

"Small place I have. Set up for surgery and recovery. There are occasions, in my line of work, where you need a doctor and don't necessarily want a record of it."

I nodded sagely.

"So what happened back there? Who was that punk?" Shannon asked again. I wanted to scream that the bastard had raped me. He'd violated me, and cut me, and hurt me, and made me helpless. I tried to get it out. Anything out. Nothing. No words would work. My voice was strangled and my throat choked up. I finally spit something out.

"It was… It was… bad. It… you saw."

It was his turn to nod. He gave me a few minutes before asking again who he was.

"A skip," I managed. "I'd never seen him before, in, you know, in person. Just the picture in the file. I don't know why he, why he…"

"He's just a sick mo-fo, Steph. Them psychos don't always need a reason."

We both paused, unsure of what to say or do. Unsure of where to go from there, how to move on.

"Do you wanna talk? Not to me, I mean, I could get someone in here. You know, who deals with this stuff," he offered. "Or you could talk to me. I didn't mean that I wouldn't listen or nothing, but, shit." He rubbed one of his big hands over his face. It was sweet, but I didn't want to talk. I wanted someone to come in and tell me that it had never happened. I wanted it to never have happened in the first place. I wanted Ranger. But I knew I wasn't going to get what I wanted.

"I just want to forget," I told him. It was the next best thing, forgetting.

Shannon visited me more than a few times that day, trying to get me to talk about it. Apparently, he didn't have anything better to do.

I didn't want to discuss what had happened. So I finally told him what I wanted to do with Blackwell. It had taken me a lot of thought and time to make that decision. I'd gone circle round circle in my head, justifying everything, justifying nothing.

So did I want him dead? Yes. Did I want to kill him? No doubt. Did I want to inflict countless tortures on him? Absolutely.

Was I going to? No.

I was, however, going to send him back to jail and make sure that he stayed there for the rest of his unnatural life.

I'd insisted on bringing Blackwell in myself, though the doctor was not happy about that. I had to wear some heavy makeup on my face to hide the pink cuts and the bruising around my throat from where he'd tried to strangle me. Shannon went with me to the station and waited patiently while I took care of business. I'd made an appointment with the assistant district's attorney in charge of prosecuting Blackwell. So after I got Blackwell checked back into the system, I went and spoke with him for a good, long while. He thought that he could talk the judge into letting me make a closed statement – just the two lawyers, the judge, and me. Then they'd take care of giving it to the jury.

After that ordeal, I'd collapsed back into bed. But it wasn't a hospital bed. It was Shannon's bed. The doctor didn't need me under constant observation. So, he'd taken me to his house, and let me rest in his bed while he took the couch.

I called my mother that evening to let her know I was still alive. I knew she'd be angry. I hadn't spoken to her for a few days, and I hadn't talked to her at all about the situation with Joe. I had no idea just how angry she'd be.

"Hi Mom."

"Don't you 'hi Mom' me, young lady. Just what do you think you're doing? You haven't called here in days and I had to find out from Mrs. Fiorelli at the butcher's shop that Joe had proposed. _And_, that you walked out on him! How _dare_ you walk out on such a good man, and right after he'd _proposed_ to you!"

"Mom…" I knew she'd be upset with me, but not this upset.

"Here was this nice young man from the burg, that's grown up and gotten a good, respectable job, and was finally ready to settle down, with _you_, no less, a so called woman who has a joke of a job and gets into more jams than the taster at Smuckers, and what do you do? You walk out on him! How many more offers do you think you're going to get?"

My God. I never knew that my mother disapproved of my life so much.

"Mom…"

"Stephanie Michelle Plum, you need to grow up! You need to learn that you can't always have everything just how you want it. You need to learn that sometimes the best you can have is to settle for things the way they are, and making them what you want."

So I should want that Blackwell cut me up? I think not. But she didn't know about any of that. And she never would.

"But Mom…"

"I can't believe you did something as stupid as you just did. I keep praying that you'll grow out of this 'bounty hunter' stage, just like you did with your stupid Wonder Woman stage."

Guess the joke was on her, then, because I _still_ wanted to be Wonder Woman.

"Stephanie, you need to grow up! If I were you, I would be crawling back to Joe on my hands and knees, right this minute, begging him to forgive me and let me have a chance to make it up to him. I'd be _begging_ him to take me back."

I was glad she wasn't me. I don't crawl.

"But Mom…"

"Stephanie, I'm just so ashamed to call you my daughter right now."

She was ashamed of me. In the past, she'd be angry, frustrated, embarrassed, any range of emotions about me, but never ashamed.

"He didn't mean it, Mom." I told her weakly.

"What are you talking about, 'he didn't mean it'?"

"His proposal. It wasn't real. He didn't really propose to me."

She was silent for a minute, trying to digest that. Maybe once she did she wouldn't be so mad at me.

"He most certainly did," she exclaimed. Alright, or maybe she would still be mad.

"He said that he was going to marry you as soon as he could. He said it right to his mother and grandmother. He wouldn't lie to _them_." So the implication, then, was that I _would_ lie to my mother and grandmother.

"No, Mom. He didn't mean it. He just said it so…"

"Stop lying!" I was going to say 'so he could get laid,' but I guess it's a good thing my mother interrupted me. I don't think she would have been any happier to hear that.

"Lying isn't going to get you out of trouble, young lady. And I hope you're not expecting to be coming home for _any_ sort of meal any time soon," she said. "Because the way I'm feeling right now, I think I'd leave you standing at the door step."

Leave me standing at the door step? That was so completely against Burg etiquette rules that it took me a minute to comprehend my mother actually doing it. Ever been practically disowned by your mother? No? Well, let me fill you in on a little secret. It feels like you heart is being ripped out through your chest and shredded into little strips. Add that to a feeling of helplessness and rage and the whole bevy of emotions that come when something like Blackwell happens to you, and it's not a good feeling. Try to avoid this at all costs. Even if it means getting a job at the button factory.

"Can I talk to Daddy?" I finally asked.

"No. He's out with the cab." I heard some muttering about him probably being at the lodge, but I didn't press her to repeat it.

"Can I talk to Grandma?"

"No. She's at Clara's."

"Oh." Well, that was nice. "Well, tell them that I love them?"

"Fine."

I really didn't know what else to say.

"Ok, well, bye, then, Mom. Love you."

"Good bye."

She slammed the phone down so hard that it made my ears ring. Wonderful. I looked down at the bandages around my stomach and noticed that there were pink spots peeking through. Great. I laid my head back against the pillow and put a hand over my eyes, trying to keep my tears at bay. When that didn't work, I just lay there weeping.

The next morning I asked if Shannon would drive me over to Vinnie's. After all, I needed to check in and make sure I wasn't fired. When I mentioned this to Shannon, he told me not to worry. Vinnie wouldn't fire me. He'd make sure of it. When we got there, the girls of course had a million questions. I just ignored them and went back to Vinnie's office. I shut the door and slumped in one of his chairs.

"Where the hell have you been, Steph?" he wanted to know.

"I," I started. "There have been…I was…" I couldn't get anything out. None of my carefully prepared words were willing to be spoken.

"Shit, Steph, you look like hell," he said. "What the hell happened to you?" He came around his desk and sat on the edge, looking at me and actually sounding concerned. That was when I broke. I started crying, and then I couldn't stop.

"Shit, Steph, come on," Vinnie was saying. Poor man sounded panicked. He shoved some tissues in my hand and gave my back a few pats. It just struck me as so funny, I chuckled once and stopped crying. It was the last time I allowed myself tears over the whole thing.

"It's ok, Vinnie," I said as I made use of the tissues. "Just a little pent up emotion." He looked so pathetically relieved I couldn't help but to laugh.

"I ran into a few problems while bringing," I stumbled over the name. "While bringing Blackwell in. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention it to anybody."

"You brought him in? How?" he wanted to know.

"It wasn't…it isn't something I want to talk about, Vinnie. But it's over. He's in jail," I said. He looked at me for a minute, and then nodded.

"Alright. The other skips?"

"All but Joyce are in," I told him.

"Good. Don't worry about Joyce. Take some time off, ok?"

Vinnie was telling me not to worry about a skip. I had to have looked pretty pathetic.

"No," I said. "I'll get Joyce."

"Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded. "Then maybe you should take some time off after that, huh?"

"No, Vinnie. Thanks, don't worry," I told him. "I'm fine. I'll take the skips now, if you don't mind."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Steph?" he wanted to know. "You can take some time before you come back, if you want."

"Thanks, Vinnie," I said. Then I took a deep breath and continued. "I need something to do. I need money." I didn't know if Shannon wanted any money for the medical bills, but even if he didn't, I was in debt up to my armpits.

"If you're sure," he said and he shrugged. Then he handed them over. "Call if you need anything."

"Thank you." He nodded.

"Now get outta here. I gotta play my _Animal Sounds_ cd. Today's gonna be pigs, I think. I wouldn't wanna disappoint the girls." I was still laughing as I left the office and Connie and Lula looked at me like I was nuts. I grabbed the files and left, Shannon trailing in my wake.

"What was that all about?" Shannon asked as we got in his car.

"It was just one of those things that you had to be there," I told him. "Wanna grab lunch?"

He shrugged.

"Could eat."

"Big Jim's?" I asked. He shrugged his agreement. I was glad. At Big Jim's, it was easy to get lost in the crowd that's always there. You could always count on Big Jim's to exceed maximum capacity by about twenty customers.

When we walked in I cringed. There was Tank, sitting in the corner, with a bunch of guys that looked like they worked with him. Perfect. I didn't think they'd spotted me yet, but I knew they would. Those types notice everything, and I tend to attract attention.

Sure enough, just as we'd finished ordering Tank came over with a few of the guys at his back. Could my day have been worse? I should have known better than to ask that question. I really, really should have.

"Stephanie." Tank said to me. "Cannon, I believe that the lady wants to be left alone."

I sighed. What else could I do?

"Bombshell? Whatchu want? You want me gone? Or is it a'ight a eat?"

"Of course we're going to eat, Shannon," I told him. "Just give me a minute to take care of this."

"Take care of… What? Girl, whattsa matter witchu? Don't you know who he is?" Tank said with much emphasis. I just sighed and led the boys back to their table.

"Come," I'd told them. "Sit." None of the gentlemen at the table had very kind looks on their faces.

"I don't know what Ranger might have told you," I started. "Or what you may have heard or assumed. But I'm not incompetent. I'm not stupid. I know who Shannon is and what he does. And he's not any more dangerous to me than Ranger ever was. Now you're going to sit here and finish your lunch. And I'm going to go over there and have my lunch. With Cannon. And we're all going to be very polite and civilized. Do I make myself clear?"

"Lady, you're nuts," said the one next to Tank. He'd been with us when I'd done that job for Ranger. Santos, I thought. Lester Santos.

"Probably," I agreed. "Have a good lunch, Lester."

I turned and went back to my table, and we ate with nothing more incidental than the occasional angry glance from their table.

I thought that I'd had about as much excitement as I could take for the moment, so Shannon took me home.

That evening I felt up to attempting to bring Joyce in. Shannon drove me, but gave me the option of going in by myself, and I decided that I should try. He gave a pat on the back and wished me luck before he settled in to wait for me.

"I'm only a phone call away if you need something," he told me. "Hell, you could just yell and I'll come. Got it?" I nodded. I was glad to be back to my job, I realized. It was good to be back to my life, even if it was just a little. I knocked on the front door to Joyce's house and it swung open. Not a good sign. I took my gun from my utility belt and called out for her.

"Joyce?" I yelled. "Are you in here? I'm here about your bail." I carefully made my way through the house, checking each room. I strained my ears for sounds, and heard something from upstairs. Gun still drawn, I crept up the steps. It was crying, I realized. It was the sounds of muffled crying that I'd heard. I knocked on the door, calling to her again.

"Joyce, are you in there?" I asked through the door. All I heard was more crying. I opened the door and went in. There was an enormous bed in the middle of the room and Joyce definitely needed a few lessons in interior decoration, but neither observation was what struck me first. It was Joyce, sitting on the floor with her hands in her lap and her head against the wall, crying her eyes out. She had a bruised cheek, a swollen eye, and a split lip.

I put away the gun and went to kneel by her.

"Joyce, what's wrong?" I asked. "What's the matter?"

"Go away," she begged. "Just please go away."

"Joyce, what happened. Are you alright?"

She didn't answer me at all that time. I sat next to her along the wall and wrapped my arms around her while she cried. She stiffened at first, pulling away from me. I pat her back and murmured soothing sounds to her and she let it go and started to sob into my shoulder.

When she pulled away again, I let her. She'd cried herself out, and was probably embarrassed now. I could relate. I watched as she got up and went into the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face.

"Guess you'll have a good story to tell everybody now, huh," she said bitterly as she came back into her room and sank back down next to me. "Poor Joyce, knocked around a bit and losing it. You can all have a good laugh over it." She didn't look at me at all.

"No," I said. "I won't be telling anybody about this. And I don't think this is funny."

She looked up at me, startled.

"Why not?" she demanded. "You found me here, in a state. I'm surprised you didn't just stun me and drag me to the station like this."

"What happened, Joyce? Who did this to you?"

"Why do you care? Why are you being so nice to me? You _hate_ me, you always have. Why are you doing this?" she cried.

"I don't hate you, Joyce," I told her. "For a while I thought I did, but that was years ago. Joyce, how did this happen?"

"Why do you want to know? So you can spread it around? Get the grapevine all stirred up again over my latest exploits? Probably you'll tell them all that I deserved it, what with me being such a slut and all."

"I won't tell anybody about any of this. God, you sound like me," I sighed. "I hate that rumor mill. I despise it."

We were silent for a few minutes, neither of us saying or doing anything but sitting there and thinking. Then Shannon came up. He must have gotten worried that I'd been gone for so long. I felt Joyce tense next to me when she heard what could only be a man's footsteps outside her door. And when it opened, she gripped my hand tightly in hers. My gun was in my other hand, by my side and out of Joyce's sight. When I saw it was Shannon I relaxed and put it away.

"I'll be down in a bit," I told him. "Do you mind waiting?" He nodded his ok and left. I assumed to go wait for me in the car again.

When he was gone, Joyce started speaking.

"It's this guy I've been seeing," she said quietly as she studied the carpet. I just sat next to her and held her hand.

"I didn't think we were exclusive or anything. We'd been dating for a while, but I hadn't seen him for maybe two weeks." She drew in a jagged breath and continued.

"So I went on that date. Then he came over a few nights ago. He'd heard about my being arrested and why and he went crazy. And I couldn't do anything. I couldn't do anything while he was hitting me and yelling at me. I couldn't do anything."

"I know," I said. "Sometimes, you can't." She started crying again. I felt for her. My heart hurt. Somebody should be doing something about this. Not just Joyce, but all the women who had to deal with anything like this.

"He's done this before," I said. She nodded, still crying.

"We have to reschedule you," I told her. "Why don't you go clean yourself up a bit, and I'll call Vinnie to come down and bond you out again. You have a lawyer?"

She nodded. I got the number from her and sent her to take a shower while I made a few calls. I went down to the kitchen and saw Shannon there, drinking coffee. I poured myself a cup and sat with him.

"You planning on saving her from herself?" he asked.

"She didn't do that to herself," I told him.

He just shook his head.

"I've seen a million women like that. Abusive relationship, but they don't get out of it," he said. Some don't, I agreed. But some couldn't. Some were afraid, and didn't have a safe place to go. From jokes I'd heard at the station, I knew domestic violence wasn't taken very seriously there. Somebody should make them take it seriously. Somebody should help these women.

"I'm not saving her, Shannon," I told him. I hadn't thought of it that way, but in a way, maybe I was. So maybe she wasn't perfect, so maybe she wasn't always even nice, but god knew I wasn't, either. And she didn't deserve to have somebody use her as a punching bag. I'd had somebody help give me a second chance when I needed it. Shouldn't everybody?

"But maybe," I said. "Maybe I can help her start over."

A few days later I was well enough both physically and mentally that Shannon and his doctor let me go home. He gave me a hug and told me not to be a stranger. He told me to come and visit him whenever I needed or wanted to. That I was free to crash at his place anytime. Then he opened the door to Big Blue for me, and watched me go.

I went by the office first, and turned in the body receipts I'd collected. There were quite a few of them. I'd brought in Shannon, the White brothers, Mr. Earling, and Joyce. And Blackwell. Blackwell alone had been worth 25K to me and Shannon had gotten me another 20K. In the end, Connie wound up writing me more than $60,000 in checks. My head spun a little when I thought about it. Connie gave me the checks and some new files and I hightailed it to the bank. The girls had wanted to know what I was going to do with my new found fortune, but I was noncommittal. I had an idea brewing in the back of my head, but I didn't want to talk about it yet.

I checked my mail, and saw an envelope from RangeMan. My heart started to beat a little faster. Maybe, I thought. Maybe Ranger hadn't said goodbye because he was sending me this. Maybe he was explaining it all in a letter. Maybe he did care. I ripped it open. There was no note. There was only a check. It was made out to me, from RangeMan. $10,000.00 for surveillance, assist in a take down, and compensation for injuries obtained as a direct result of employment. It was a check for the work I had done during the Ramos mess. I hadn't done it for the money. He'd been a friend, and he'd asked me to help. And instead of telling me goodbye, he'd written me off in a check. My heart cracked a little more.

When I got up to my apartment, Mooner and Dougie were asleep in the living room. Again. I nudged them awake. They were coming to, though not very quickly. I guess doing drugs isn't conducive to rapid awareness. I nudged harder.

"Dude."

"Uhngh."

A few minutes later, I had them sitting on the couch. A major feat, since they refused to open their eyes.

"Dude, what happened?" Mooner asked me, eyes still closed. They must have gotten into a serious stash to be this zoned out.

"I was hoping you could tell me." I wanted to know where they'd been when Blackwell had come for me. I didn't blame them for not being there, they weren't supposed to be there to guard my apartment from rapists. I wanted to make sure they didn't know anything they could tell anybody.

"Oh."

"Dude."

They sat, obviously deep in thought for a few minutes.

"Dude?" Mooner finally asked Dougie.

"No clue."

"Dude." Mooner was now answering Dougie. Really, it's a multipurpose word. Kinda like 'yo.'

"Come on, you guys. Let's get a cab and get you two home. I'm sure your house doesn't smell anymore."

And if it did, too bad. I had to get them out of there. I didn't want them staying in my apartment anymore. I just needed to be alone, I needed space. I got them outside and gave the cabdriver twenty bucks to take them wherever they wanted to go. Then I went back up to my apartment.

I couldn't stand the silence, the loneliness, the vulnerability. And I couldn't face going back inside. Sometimes, I really wonder about my ability to stay in my apartment after all the horrible things that have happened there. Someone, probably Shannon, had gotten my apartment cleaned and ready, but I just wasn't ready to stay there alone yet.

While I was just standing there in the doorway, peering into my apartment, I felt someone come up behind me. I turned around, my hand going behind me to feel the gun at the small of my back, but I relaxed a little when I realized that it was just one of Ranger's men. Tank, if I remembered correctly.

"What's wrong?" He asked me.

The question seemed so absurd that I almost got hysterical. I refrained.

"Nothing. I was just going to my parents' house for a while." Well, I'll be. Where did that come from?

He looked at me for a minute, speculating something, thinking it over in his head.

"Come on. You can stay with me for a while. My wife will love you."

I debated getting angry at him, but decided that it wasn't worth it. After all, I was getting a place to stay without having to resort to my family.

"That would be nice."

Before I left, I grabbed that list of instructors Vinnie had given me and shoved it in my pocket. Picking up the duffle bag Shannon had put together for me, I followed Tank out of my apartment to his Bronco.

This was not how my life was supposed to be, not how it was supposed to work out. But if god wanted to play it that way, maybe it was time for me to get up and do something about it.


End file.
